Large Marge's Philly Cheesesteaks!

Hello there friends, family, and various Googlers.
A lot has happened (kind of) since I last posted. I have moved to lovely Wheat Ridge, Colorado. It's a suburb of Denver, though Denver itself is rather like a suburb. Wheat Ridge is kind of like Oakland, if you built Oakland on a sheet of balloon material and then streeeetched it out. And decorated it with wagon wheels. And took the style-factor down 10 or so notches.
By that, I mean that I have lived no where like this before. It's true what I said about the ratio and placement of houses to businesses. I assumed that it would be a bedroom community heaven, but it isn't.

But still, we ain't in California any more, Todo. For example, it is difficult to walk anywhere because everything is so spread out. But, it is also difficult to drive (despite the wide streets and easy parking) because there are so many damned parking lots. I can never tell when I am turning onto another street or into a parking lot. For example, while looking for the closest supermarket, I turned left at a stoplight at what I thought was a street (because there was a stoplight) instead, I found myself in the parking lot for an "adult" store (the only sign-age said "adult" and "XXX" I think that you get the picture). I peeled out of there pretty quickly.

It is also a land of snow. Not because it really snows that much, but because the snow, the potential of snow, and the after affects of a snow are obstacles. It is impossible to see the parking lines painted on the parking lots because the snow has helped to wear it away. Every other sign is telling you your speed, or informing you that when the lights above the sign are flashing, you have to decrease your speed by 10 MPH, or telling you that the bridge may be icy when the road looks dry. CO also requires every single type of footwear. Snow boots, less wet but cold boots, rain boots, tennis shoes, sandals, etc because it throws everything at you. In the past 5 days that I have been here it has snowed and been freeze-y cold but today it was so warm I went out without even a sweater. The only consistency is that it's dry dry dry dry. My cuticles have desiccated, detached from my nail, and frilled into a little fringe of dead skin at the base of each of my nails. I have started to painstakingly work lotion into them every night before I go to bed.

Most of the buildings here were built after 1965. They were also all built for utility, not beauty. Rarely is a building more than one story tall, and they are all painted the same dingy buff. It makes it difficult to see beyond the SuperTargets and Wal-Marts, but once you get the hang of it you see some truly unique and non-Californian things. Abners Meats, which advertises venison. And then there's Charles Chuck Wagon Diner (I am not kidding) or (and I am dead serious about this, sooooo not San Francisco Bay Area) Large Marge's Philly Cheesesteak House. In the East Bay one would say that in jest, never half-seriously like they do here. It is definitely possible that I don't understand it all, but to my eyes it's all worthy of note. Actually, I am pretty thrilled to be here. I never really realized how twee the Bay Area can get. Don't get me wrong, I still love it.
I am living with C, a friend from college, and her boyfriend N in a peppermint pink, 1970's duplex. It's 50 feet from the first Wheat Ridge Post Office, a sod house, a log cabin, and someone's early frontier house. These buildings have been turned into a museum, that unfortunately isn't open right now. We are also located within walking distance of 3 bars: Stan's Caravan, which boasts Texas Hold 'em; Rambling Roses Bar and Cafe which denies entrance to children after 9 pm, and promises free shots every time the Denver Broncos score a touchdown; and the Rockette Tavern, which has a sign in the shape of a rocket. The best thing that I can walk to easily from my house is a used bookstore. It's pretty big and has a good selection in all genres. The shelves are homemade and the books are stacked horizontally, rather than perpendicularly, to the shelves.

So far, the thrifting here is outrageous. Cheap and good. Wheat Ridge (or even Denver possibly) doesn't seem to have the second-hand culture that CA has. The stores are filled to the brim with great stuff. I bought a pair of barely worn, black, ankle-strap shoes that fit beautifully for less than $4. In CA they'd have been bought and re-sold to CrossRoads before they even hit the shelf. C told me to be careful who I told that I got something at the Salvy, because they may insist on buying me a hot, filling lunch and offering me a bed for the night.

more later, I am tired and overwhelmed.