The Elk's Patootie

So...  I was in Denver last week to visit my Dad's side of the family.  (Okay, Littleton and Conifer if you want to get technical.)  I've mentioned before that they are not exactly...  ummm....  Internet savvy.  Anytime someone says to you, "So you must really know your way around a computer."  or, "they sure are amazing." as they shake their head in wonder at your iPhone...  pretty good clue that they aren't very hip on the old interweb.  There is kind of a down side to this...  The whole point of my writing a blog was to help my family in Colorado feel more connected to my boys as they grow up.  So my family misses out on loose teeth, jumping in puddles, chasing the dog...  all of those little things that make up our days.  But the up side...

I can say whatever I want to about them.  And they'll never know.  So here we go, Gentle Reader.

And I'll start, with how I start a morning at my Dad's house in Conifer.  Conifer is a small town nestled in the mountains above Denver at an elevation of 8,278 feet,  (Yes.  I did just look that up, thank you very much.  I certainly do know my way around a computer.)  so your ears pop as you drive up the winding road through the pine trees and boulders.  They have a lovely home, with lots of windows to take in the breathtaking views.  I sit down at the kitchen table with a mug of hot coffee in my hands.  The house still and quiet.  I'm the first one awake.  The sky above the peaks in the distance is a soft pink, fading into blue as the sun brightens the horizon.  And blocking my view of the purple mountain's majesty...

Is a big elk's arse.

I apologize if you just squirted anything out your nose, but there just is no polite way to say it.  It's a giant elk's arse.  Staring at me in the face.  Blocking my view of nature's bounty.  As I drink my coffee.  Good morning.

Ah, what the heck.  Let's see it again, shall we?
This is a family blog, so we will now refer to Elk Arse as, Elk Patootie.  I know that will make the sweet little old ladies from my church who read my blog a little more comfortable.  Elk Patootie.

Elk Patootie.  Staring me down.  Daring me to look away.  But here's the thing.  I can't.  I just can't look away.  It's a huge elk.  It's neither regions pointing right at me from my seat at the kitchen table.  How?  How?  How am I supposed to not stare at it?

So I don't even try.  I just stare.  And giggle to myself.  Because that's funny stuff.

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