17 hours later, through Chicago,
through two accidental security check points
in Frankfurt before I could locate my gate,
I emerge from customs in Rome.
I was to meet up with Nancy and Laura at the rental car counter.
Ended up twenty feet from behind on the moving sidewalk.
Nancy somehow got us upgraded to a Mini Clubman.
We drove north to Orvieto
to meet up with Kip
who then drove us into the countryside
to our residence for the week.
A lovely villa set amongst

OK, so it was a lofty itinerary and the booze got dissed. Que Shamo!

This is the eulogy I delivered at mom's service on Sunday. Some have asked if I could post this. I have so many thoughts about this process and this journey I wished to be able to post and share- but its so very complex a process.
For now, here is the letter:

I’m sitting perched in my office, the sky is open and vast and blue.
The snow is melting on the streets and dripping from the rafters.
How many times have I started this letter, this commemoration–on the page and in my head.
As many as there are snowflakes I see disappearing before me.
How can I possibly wrap up neatly and poetically what you are and meant to me?

Dearest Terri allowed me to take her 6 a.m. class for a spin this morning. I was a nervous wreck. I got little sleep last night. My heart rate hovered anaerobic for most of the class- thank you adrenaline. After a few songs, a rocky start and some assistance

This is my gate. If I’m flying non-rev on Delta, this is always my gate. I’ve been doing this once a month for most of this year. We back out of the gate at 6:20- on time departure. It’s still dark. The runway is glistening with all of

I didn't really think about there being any significance to an eleven year anniversary. Honestly, I'm just glad we got here. Over, what felt like at the time, an insurmountable hill, at ten. But, in the infamous words of Mr. Manillow, "it looks like we made it".
We never really do anything special for this time of the year, because we are usually on the cusp of feeding an army for Thanksgiving. But this year, we felt it necessary to do something, anything.

As I was preparing to write the entry about the details, I was curious on the significance (traditional hetero "marriage" significance) of the eleventh year.
I am not going to write on the details that led us to this part of the journey. Let's just say that a universal two by four, some serious introspection on all parts, some serious hard work, and the over used and over worked term "love" (which is real and tangible if you allow it to come in instead of searching it out)- have played significant roles in getting us to eleven.

It’s been eleven years ago, almost to the day. Dawn and Karen had invited me to join them for dinner at a new little restaurant in Capitol Hill called Potager. I walked into this space- which used to be a Laundromat- now converted into an open and inviting eatery with brick walls and white table clothes.

I love where we live. Not just Denver, but Westside. I love that it takes me two minutes on my bike to get to the confluence of Cherry Creek and Platte River. I love that we sit perched above the city.

We are talking about an ascent to 12,200' via a dirt road for sixteen miles. Doesn't that sound fun.