Kiddie Costumes

Sean and I aren't real big Halloween people ... maybe because we don't have kids to dress up and make fun of, or maybe because I just don't want to spend the time thinking about a costume of my own (sorry, there just isn't a Halloween party out there that's worth it in my mind ...).

I can remember growing up and going trick or treating with my brother and Dad ... I was the one wearing the orange flight suit and the cheap plastic Luke Skywalker mask that was probably made in China and off-gassed carcinogens directly in my face (thanks Mom and Dad!). Other fond childhood costumes included Spiderman (loved the tights ...), the Great Pumpkin (a shape that was anything but flattering), and a Boy Scout (which was the cheap way out considering all I had to do was wear my real uniform). My brother and I would dump out all of our sugary loot out when we returned home and would then meticulously sort each piece of candy ... which would find its way into every conceivable hiding place we could think of (we were kinda like squirrels gearing up for a long winter in that respect). Mom would find candy stuffed in drawers, under the mattress, behind books ... and what Mom found she ate.

When I think back to all the sugar sticks, Nerds, Starbursts, M&M's, and Snickers bars I've consumer in my life, it's a small miracle I've never had a cavity ... it's a small miracle I managed to outgrow my fat kid stage!

White - The New Orange

White pumpkins are just too cool. Why don't I remember seeing these little mod guys when I was growing up? Apparently, the albinos are a novelty of sorts, and fun facts to know and tell they're still orange under that white upper layer. Also referred to as "Ghost pumpkins," "Snowballs," "Luminas," and "Caspers" ... reference to the friendly ghost. And the ones about the size of a baseball you can buy in a big bag at Whole Foods? "Baby Boos."

Have a happy Halloween!

Let It Snow!

Remember when you were a kid and the mere mention of snow made you crazy excited to the point you could hardly contain yourself? You'd go to sleep with the radio on, just in case the Gods upon high deemed schools closed the day before ... and if they didn't do it then, you'd be up at 5 AM, like a kid on Christmas morning, just waiting to see your school district's name run across the bottom of the screen. Yeah, it was thrilling!

I miss those days. Nothing in Denver really gets cancelled for snow ... well, in my world anyway. Construction goes on, meetings take place (YAWN). It's the name of the game. Regardless, when I woke up to falling snow yet again, I couldn't shut off that little voice inside my head saying "c'mon, just do it ... you have like 100 hours of PTO ... who's really going to care? ... everyone else is going to do it .... stay home." Eventually the voice in my head won ... and it was good :)

Today is the second day Denver has been pummelled by what the local meteorologists are referring to as the biggest October winter storm to hit the area in 10 years (... and just time! There are a number of ski resorts opening early this Halloween weekend including Copper, Breck, Keystone, and Wolf Creek Pass). Quite literally, it has snowed the past 48 hours leaving 14" in the Denver metro area and up to 37" in the higher elevs (like Conifer).

I enjoyed my day of rest despite getting up just as early as I normally do. I drank a pot of coffee, picked up around the house a bit, did laundry, shoveled, played with Dakota in the snow, caught up on a bunch of stuff on the DVR (including back episodes of The Office, Project Runway, Modern Family ...), and read a few chapters in Pat Conroy's latest South of Broad. Its been a very relaxing couple of hours, despite monitoring emails, and trying not to become too detached from the goings-on at the office.

I'm always slightly remiss how quickly days off seem to pass (I swear it feels like I just ate lunch and here I am fixing dinner!), but I am steadfast in my belief you're never too old for an old fashioned Snow Day!

Words To Live By ...

Renzo Does Chicago

I'm excited to see Renzo Piano's new wing for the Art Institute of Chicago. Piano has become known the world over for his museum work - Centre Georges Pompidou, Paris; NEMO, Amsterdam; Nasher Sculpture Center, Dallas; High Museum of Art, Atlanta; and the Paul Klee Center, Switzerland... to name a few.

Nicolai Ouroussof, architecture critic for the New York Times, believes this could be Piano's most earnest attempt at achieving a "near classical facade" (see article here). It's also very reminiscent of Piano's Beyeler Foundation in Basel, Switzerland, albeit a much larger scale. The museum serves as the south anchor point for Millennium Park, and provides stunning views of the city's skyline. The connection to the park is further enhanced by a 620 foot pedestrian bridge that spans Monroe Street and connects the public with the restaurant and sculpture garden on the third floor.

The most stunning feature is the massive cantilevered roof, a white, extruded aluminum sun-screen Piano refers to as a "flying carpet." The "carpet" captures the soft north light and filters it into the galleries below. A similar screen is used on the exterior facade. Photovoltaic cells in the window scrims and computer-controlled artificial lighting are supposed to keep light levels consistent.

The new $294 million addition has been designed to achieve LEED Silver. At 264,000 square feet, it is the largest expansion in the Art Institutes's 130 year old history.

Mini Coupe Concept

As part of Mini's 50 year anniversary, the Mini Coupe Concept was recently introduced at the 2009 Frankfurt Auto Show. "It's a pocket Porsche," says Mini's Design Director Gert Hildebrand. The concept probably won't see production till at least 2014.

In the meantime, however, check the two anniversary Cooper styles recently released by Mini for the 50th anniversary - Camden and Mayfair.

And for more pics of the Mini Coupe Concept, click here.

Spic and Span

"Dusting is a good example of the futility of trying to put things right.
As soon as you dust, the fact of your next dusting has already been established."
- George Carlin

Some days I'm convinced I'm turning into my mother. Growing up, I remember my Mom's frantic cleaning tirades where every nook and cranny would need to be spic and span before we could even think about leaving the house ... and in case you need a meter of sorts to figure out just how high on the crazy chart she was, cleaning base boards and behind (and below) large pieces of furniture were part of the normal routine. Of course, like most kids growing up in the South, my brother and I were banned from the living room with its well dusted porcelain knickknacks and freshly vacuumed white carpet. Despite never really using the room outside of Christmas morning and the occasional dinner guest, it was always clean to the 'nth degree ... and kinda resembled a "do not touch" showroom vignette at one of those conservative, happy-homemaker types of furniture stores.

I didn't pick-up my Mom's tastes by any stretch (ie: I have no intention of ever owning a four-poster bed or dining room chairs with "claw-in-ball" feet) but I am slightly crazed when it comes to keeping things at home "just so." I still like to see those freshly pressed beater bar vacuum lines, and sunlight on a dusty glass surface is enough to make me spring into action like a firefighter bound for a 5 alarm blaze! The unfortunate part of this clean house obsession is that cleaning "to do's" almost always seem to multiply in mid-act, and I can't seem to focus on anything else until every last one is checked off the list. What can I say? ... dust and grime just has a weird, mental stranglehold on my psyche ... thanks mom. And now that I'm a real, live homeowner, cleaning extends well beyond dust to even larger items ... like the yard.

Yesterday was one of those stranglehold days. No sooner did Sean and I get out of bed, I felt a fire within to get every leaf out of the backyard ... seriously, over the past 2 days I feel like every leaf in our backyard has descended, accumulating in what feels like a foot of decaying rot ... rot Sean and I wade through every day getting from the detached garage to our back door. After 2.5 hours of raking and bagging, I came inside only to notice dust bunnies running across the wood floors (I use the word "dust" here loosely as the "dust" in our house is largely discarded hair follicles from our loving, nonchalant pets - Dakota and Boop. I do love them). Dust on the floor requires a good Swiffing, and no sooner did I get that knocked out (yes, beneath heavy pieces of furniture) I noticed rings on our kitchen counters from discarded glasses the night before .. no names of course, but Sprite and Vodka, being highly sugary substances, almost always leave a trace. After scrubbing the counters with Windex I happen to look up and notice dirty rain spots on the kitchen windows, and I want you to know it to took every fiber of my being not to run outside, climb up on the ladder, and start scrubbing.

Eventually, I came to my senses (I usually do), and Sean and I were able to get on with the rest of our day ... though there have been days when this crazed routine can literally go from the time I get up to the time I go to bed (no joke). I'm jealous of single people this way, as things at home tend to stay where you last left them ... books stay on the shelves, knickknacks and picture frames remain in the same position, dishes stay in the cupboard or put away in the dishwasher. When spouses, pets, and God-forbid children enter the equation, however, it's nearly impossible to stay on top of your A-game ... you're just forced to let go. Whether letting go is a good thing or not is yet to be seen in my book ... afterall, the more you "let go" the worse it gets (As I type this and look out the window, the back yard is already covered again with leaves!).

Cleaning house is all about balance, and I guess everyone has a different sense of what that truly entails. Fortunately, Mom passed along a rather manic, Southern interpretation ... and for that I am forever grateful. I'll knock out those spotty kitchen windows next weekend ...

Herb and Dorothy Vogel

The odd couple of the art world to say the very least, Herbert Vogel, a postal clerk, and Dorothy Vogel, a librarian, managed to build one of the most important contemporary art collections in history with very modest means. In the early 1960s, when very little attention was paid to Minimalist and Conceptual Art, Herb and Dorothy Vogel quietly began purchasing the works of unknown artists. Devoting all of Herb’s salary to purchase art they liked, and living on Dorothy’s paycheck alone, they continued collecting artworks guided by two rules: the piece had to be affordable, and it had to be small enough to fit in their one-bedroom Manhattan apartment. Within these limitations, they proved themselves curatorial visionaries; most of those they supported and befriended went on to become world-renowned artists including Sol LeWitt, Christo and Jeanne-Claude, Richard Tuttle, Chuck Close, Robert Mangold, Sylvia Plimack Mangold, Lynda Benglis, Pat Steir, Robert Barry, Lucio Pozzi, and Lawrence Weiner.

After thirty years of meticulous collecting and buying, the Vogels managed to accumulate over 2,000 pieces, filling every corner of their tiny one bedroom apartment. “Not even a toothpick could be squeezed into the apartment,” recalls Dorothy. In 1992, the Vogels decided to move their entire collection to the National Gallery of Art in Washington, DC. The vast majority of their collection was given as a gift to the institution. Many of the works they acquired appreciated so significantly over the years that their collection today is worth millions of dollars. Still, the Vogels never sold a single piece. Today Herb and Dorothy still live in the same apartment in New York with 19 turtles, lots of fish, and one cat. They’ve refilled it with piles of new art they’ve acquired.

The "Goose Bone" Method

I woke up this morning to snow ... again. And not just the flurry kind but the kind that actually sticks! (it's still coming down as I write this) Autumn in Denver can be a mixed bag to say the very least ... one day you'll be in short sleeves, while the next you'll be bundled up in sweaters and scarves.

The Farmer's Almanac is predicting "above normal snow fall" for Colorado this winter, with the snowiest periods occurring in "early and mid-November, mid- and late December, and mid- and late January." I typically don't put a lot of stock in Farmer's Almanac predictions, but maybe I should ... since 1792 the Farmer's Almanac has been known to be 80 percent accurate with its forecasts (fun facts to know and tell). Furthermore, my boss has a horse, Rhett, that she's convinced can predict an abnormally cold winter and she may be right - in the past month, Rhett has already grown a woolen winter coat, an act he apparently skips out on some years.

Ever wonder how the Farmer's Almanac makes their weather predictions? It's a top secret formula devised by the founder of the Almanac, Robert B. Thomas. Thomas believed that weather on Earth was influenced by sunspots - magnetic storms on the surface of the Sun. He made many notes and observations about the phenomenon - all of which are locked in a a black box at the Farmer Almanac's headquarters in Dublin, New Hampshire. Over the years, the Almanac has refined and enhanced Thomas' formula, but it really boils down to statistical averages from three scientific disciplines: solar science, the study of sunspots and other solar activity; climatology, the study of prevailing weather patterns; and meteorology, the study of the atmosphere.

Of course, there are more exotic ways to predict the weather. At the turn of the last century, the "goose bone" method was a favorite. The breastbone from a Thanksgiving goose would be cleaned and left on a shelf to dry. Depending on what color the bone dried to, a weather prediction could be made. If the bone turned blue, black, or purple, a cold winter lay ahead.
White indicated a mild winter. Purple tips were a sure sign of a cold spring. A blue color branching out toward the edge of the bone, meant open weather until New Year's Day. If the bone was a dark color, or blue all over, the prediction was for a real bad winter. It sounds borderline moronic, but like a horse's winter coat, there is some science to it. An overall dark color meant that the bird had absorbed a lot of oil, which acted as a natural protection against the cold. The darker the blue coloring, the tougher the winter ahead would probably be.

If you'd like to be able to predict the weather (in the short term) without having to kill anything, check these 10 observational hints from WikiHow: http://www.wikihow.com/Predict-the-Weather-Without-a-Forecast

Nothing Gold Can Stay

I'm not a huge poetry fanatic, but I do love Robert Frost ... especially this time of year. Nothing Gold Can Stay, written in 1923, is Frost at his absolute best.

Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.

Her early leaf's a flower;

But only so an hour.

Then leaf subsides to leaf.

So Eden sank to grief,

So dawn goes down to day.

Nothing gold can stay.

- Robert Frost