Welcome to the Rockies, y'all.

It's been just about a week since the men brought our things to our new house. The move itself went fairly well, and they only broke a couple of things, which is probably better than we would have done. I am sorry to say that Steve the Ikea plant didn't make it. The moving truck came over the mountains at the same time as a record cold snap hit, and he just kind of froze and died. Before he went, though, he was able to scrabble together this note:




Aw, come on. It's been like two months since those miners died. Let Steve bask in some of that pathos. He was a good plant. We also had a couple of other little houseplants that we put in our trunk, but like stupid Californians we didn't bring them in at night, so they didn't make it either.

In other less horrific news, we're getting pretty well adjusted. I got my driver's license AND plates in just two days. It's a completely different experience than anything I've ever seen in California, Nevada, or Florida. You know how the DMV is pretty much like a bus terminal in some third-world country? Chickens, baskets on heads, the fetid smell of digested spices?

In Colorado, this is simply not the case. Chris and I walked into the clean, quiet driver's license office here in Douglas County, and waited for about five minutes until we were helped (in English!) by pleasant and communicative government employees. I know, super weird. At the registration office, I was told that the lady would be happy to wait with my paperwork while I ran next door to the ATM. Unreal, I tell you. People are just so damn friendly here.

Another example -- I had to take my car over to the Honda dealer to get the front plate bracket put on. I was greeted by a non-smarmy maintenance guy who walked me over to the parts counter, stood there until the parts lady found the part in stock, then asked for my keys so he could move my car for me. He came back some minutes later to ask if I wanted him to put the new plates on, too.

It was below zero that day, and the underside of my car was encrusted with dirty ice. When I realized that I wasn't going to have to hunker down in the snowy hotel parking lot and try to wrest off my old license plate with frozen, numb fingers, I nearly cried.