Field Day and Class Parties

O Death, Where is Thy Sting?

Ah, springtime in the Rockies! Which means, actually, mild winter in the Rockies.

We begin the annual attempt at gardening indoors, as you must.

Palm Sunday is just the best occasion for discussion and fun...and, as we do every year, we recreated Holy Week as far as our weak abilities allowed. The kids always ask: Why don't we celebrate Palm Sunday, or anything about Holy Week, at church? And I never have an answer for them. That's not a criticism or complaint, mind you, just an honest query.

The Savior and his donkey, incognito.

On Tuesday we discussed the parable of the Ten Virgins: no play this year, but they did get to create these handy-dandy lamps...every Easter I swear to myself that NEXT year, I'll bring out the serious clay and let them create real, light-bearing lamps. How long can one lie to oneself?

The gals with the Big Bun at Park Meadows...Tagawa nursery creates this fabulous springtime fantasyscape for our enjoyment: even as Denver blossoms, we, at 1,000 feet higher elevation, still yearn for the buds of spring.

Egg-deocrating. The eleventh hour, Saturday night. The local egg hunts were missed by one week, or cancelled, so, well...

nicely done.

Our 2011 Sunday mornings have been less than satisfactory...we switched to the 8 a.m. block due to a ward split, and we've never recovered. Even on this blessed holiday, on which we were due in the Park Meadows ward to hear cousin Collin speak upon returning from his mission to Puebla, Mexico, at the late hour of 9 a.m., we were granted no time reprieve, due to time allotted for travel. So this, my friends, is the Easter Sunday morning leeched of all joy. It can't be helped.

Once you get 'em dressed, however, you can usually coax 5 seconds of merriment.

Collin gave the most wonderful talk...and though it hadn't occurred to me before the speakers began, we couldn't, if we had had a catalog of potential Sacrament meeting programs before us, have picked better Sunday to bring the Kulwicki twins to their first-ever church experience: If a man die, will he live again? How ecstatic were we that we could bring these boys to sit with a group of people who can testify that everyone, indeed, will live again? That they will see their father again, that they will talk with and love with him again? With all the cultural trappings in which Latter-day Saints consistently immerse ourselves, this is the core, what those boys heard this Easter Sunday: 'He is not here, he is risen.'

All I Could Manage to Preserve

The biggest peeve in my world is having the camera be out of commission, and the sin is only exacerbated in seriousness when cameras are out of commission during Spring Break. One might say, with frightening accuracy, that lately, I'm often grumpy regarding our family's photo situation.

We did manage to snatch a few shots at Denver's Zoo, particularly this money shot with Nagini.And the Fab Four on the zoo train.Here, the youngsters frolic wildly at one of our favorite parks, Westlands, in Greenwood Village. This particular park is straight-up five-star, people. Even when it's seasonably chilly. Swingin'.Photographing my boys in a play situation is a goldmine of laughs...the level of enjoyment they manage to eke out of every situation is the envy of every family in the vicinity. So close to a pants-ing. Luckily, Shane remembered underwear.

The rest of break found us at Chuck E. Cheese, Jump Street, the leisure pool, showings of 'Diary of a Wimpy Kid: Rodrick Rules', 'Hop' and 'Rango'...a good, unphotographed time was had by all.Gracie's been taking swim lessons again this last winter, and has just blossomed - yay! She's feeling so confident in her skills that she'll join Shaner as a Castle Rock Cruiser this summer, which officially lands her in the big time. The ultimate deck sibling becomes a player. Most satisfying.Belly-Boo had a much better time than this picture would suggest while singing in the District Honor Choir for the elementary schools...they performed 6 songs at Chaparral High and truly were spectacular. I'm continually amazed at the rabbits pulled out of our district administrator's hats, allowing the arts to continue amid severe budget woes. Props to them.Certified.

Pure Sunshine

Never let a good disaster go to waste.

One of the amazing tremors to reverberate through our lives since Rick's untimely passing is the outpouring of support from Rick's far-reaching circle of friends, fans, and admirers: as his biological family, we've been floored by the Denver punk community and the Southeast Denver baseball community, both of whom just seized the reins and did what needed to be done. His 15-year-old twin boys, Richard and Roman, whom he raised as a single parent, were now the focus of every fundraising effort imaginable. Within days, the Richard Kulwicki Memorial Fund was set up, along with a PayPal account, and the Pure Sunshine Celebration & Benefit, in conjunction other events, was scheduled. The tributes came from everywhere: good friend Troy DeBaca, who, coincidentally, sat in the last classroom our father ever taught at Park Lane Elementary, donated all profits from the sale of these fabulous Pure Sunshine T's, as did another anonymous designer who altered the Budweiser logo to read "Kulwicki", and underneath, "King of Men", rather than "King of Beer." Rick was a Bud guy, so its apropos either way.

Guitars and Fluid (Rick's most well-known band) rarities were auctioned off, and all proceeds from the show were donated by The Bluebird (the very definition of Denver alternative cool. Best venue to play. If you have to go larger, you've officially gotten too big fer yer britches and probably aren't worth hearing anyway).The Kulwicki boys. Fifteen years old and playing the Bluebird? There are no final frontiers to conquer.Another irresistible shot, including fellow bandmate, Henry. Whom we love just like he was our own. He practically is.The Purple Fluid. I'm obviously biased, but this was the highlight of both nights of the show, certainly the emotional apex of all of the sets of the other 16 bands who graced the stage to honor their friend and mentor. Richard's on lead vocals, Roman's on the far left on guitar, Henry, and Garrett Shavlik, Rick's dear friend and former bandmate who flew in from Seattle to ably back them on drums. When former Fluid lead singer John Robinson joined on a few Fluid covers, I'm pretty sure the heavens parted. A favorite action shot, and on the right is Orrie, whose mom Nia is just the backbone of the operation.The aforementioned John Robinson as gone above and beyond in creating much of the media for this fundraising extravaganza, which surely reaches far beyond these shows...these are the pass-along cards, for lack of a better term. The text reads: "Q: What would Ricky do? A: The right thing." Which, at the end of the day, is why all of these fabulous people converged in the first place: you could always count on Ricky to do what was right, even when it was inconvenient, ugly, messy, and in direct opposition to his best interest. What we have experienced is the concept of paying it forward. Which is the best tribute anyone could offer him.

Madness

It's literally our favorite time of year. I mean, I like Christmas and all, but, ah, the Tournament! Best gig in sports, bar none. And to top this year off was that amazing BYU team...

Rounds 1 and 2 found the Cougars in Denver, we joined thousands of those wonderful alumni (the only flaw in the tournament paradigm is that it includes so few students) - we felt better after speaking with several other navy blue-clad zealots and found what they had paid to see Jimmer and the Fredettes sneak past Wofford and dismantle Gonzaga. Comparatively, we did well.The fellas. The first-round Wofford game was ugly in the extreme, and after sitting through Gonzaga's clotheslining of St. John's, we didn't sleep well.

Needn't have worried, as it turned out. Jimmer and the boys were on a freakin' rampage in that second round, just raining 3's, nabbing every free ball and rebound...looking every second like a Final Four team. There was much rejoicing, and verbal speculation regarding how many children each family would need to sell to garner the required cash flow for the Sweet 16 series in New Orleans. You only think I'm kidding.Our favorite sign, but there were plenty of noteworthy entries.

Of course, the next round wasn't as fun or rosy. So it works out that we opted to keep all of our kids and stayed in our own basement, sharing the pain as a family unit. That's how we bond.

Ricky Kulwicki 1961-2011

THIS is why this last February just sucked out loud.

I'm going to attempt to do the impossible: shoehorn in one short-ish blog post everything this man was and is, everything he stood for and exemplified, everything he meant to me. Never mind. Can't be done.

What I will attempt to convey is just what the world lost on Tuesday, February 15th, 2011: the most open, accepting, generous, unfailingly kind, intelligent, funny, punctual and unpretentious soul who ever lived. The gold standard when it comes to loyalty, dedication, sacrifice, dignity. No one knows a better father: you may be just as good, but you're certainly not better. A first-class artist, guitarist and rock historian, a peerless base-running coach, a son, a brother, a father, a friend, a mentor.
For his obituary in the Denver Post, he was described by friends as "...a person of impeccable integrity." "I've never met his equal for pure sunshine and happiness and positivity - he was just a magical character - an ambassador of good-will." "If you ever needed an example of how to live your life, you only had to look at how Rick conducted his."

I got to do that every day of my life. Rick was the best of all positive things...the only thing missing, maybe, was activity in the gospel. But I'll tell you what: I've never met a more Christlike being. The gospel would have blessed his life immeasurably, but his participation wouldn't have made him one ounce of a better person. He was already there.

Various Attainments and Occasions for Merriment

Ah, Girl Scout cookie season. For one brief, shining moment, I was the cookie mom for Troop 632. Then February happened. But just as we were getting our feet under us, we were able to have a private booth sale at Rocky Mountain Harley-Davidson, which was, if you knew my brother at all, very apropos - a host of wonderful people whom your six-year-old daughter may not necessarily feel comfortable approaching.

It was Mardi Gras weekend, so the girls decorated a float to participate in the store parade...Famous Americans project. Shane chose, from the plethora of amazing and accomplished fellow countrymen the moral giant known to us as...Kobe Bryant. No, that's not a typo. Kobe Bryant. Where have I gone wrong as a parent? Stellar presentation, though, I must say.Foothills' Blue & Gold Banquet. You just had to be there.

Since you weren't: the Webelos den crafted an amazing feat of drama and humor via paper-bag puppets - they say it's a tougher medium than most...something unintelligible regarding Star Wars and pirates punctuated with much giggling.

In between what I can only assume was a scrump-dili-umptious serving of spaghetti, we were treated to all manner of skits and songs as well as...the awarding of pins, beads and other tokens of advancement. Go, Shane! And go, Matt, who is not only Cub Committee Chair, but the only thing standing between his sons and utter nonparticipation. I'm all talk and no work when it comes to Cubs. There. It's out.

Everything he needs is in his hands. Therefore...

momma gets pinned. Had I known such an event was in the offing, I would've dressed accordingly. At the very least, something that didn't suggest "Car Wash". As in: "I just completed a shift at."Other moms coaxed a hug, maybe even got a handshake. Me, I just took 'im down. I received a standing ovation for my efforts.The piece d' resistance: exploding volcano. Oh, baby.Eve was not without her achievements in February...she, Emily and Erin completed a project on Canada and its indiginous environs...What you see here is all that remains to visibly chronicle the Bisons' amazing basketball season: 6 wins, 1 loss, 1 tie. Stellar in the extreme. Can't say enough. Definitely can't say enough to make up the loss of images. The irony: pictures from a decade ago? Of which we have no further need? I can make as many copies as I desire, courtesy of negatives. Now that I'm digital and much "advanced"? I have no copies. Of anything. For the past eleven months. See? See the irony?

The All-Encompassing Trip

Well, surely you know I lifted that heading from the fan-based radio phone-in show from Sirius' Pearl Jam radio...surely you know it.

February just sucked out loud.

I needed to get outta Dodge, and had a wonderfully complicit husband with which to do it. We even, in a magnanimous gesture, included the children.

Glenwood is just a little joy: you pass by it on your way to everywhere, and if you weren't going everywhere, you'd love to hunker down for a day or two. This time, we did.

Glenwood is high, high in the mountains, and boasts amazing vapor caves and natural-spring therapeutic pools, so folks like Doc Holliday were sent there to recoup from whatever it was he had - consumption? Sure.

We just went to stay in a Hampton Inn (at Ty's request, AND scored he Sunlight Mountain Suite), get in a little skiing, soak in those mega-hot pools, and just see something different. Like this: my kids? In a swimming pool? Unique, all the way around. Matt and the kiddies hit Sunlight Mountain Resort: a nice, family-friendly little place. I always bunk up in the lodge with a nice book. Or even a bad one. The preferred means of descent for little Evie. Gracie kicked so much tail at ski school that she spent the afternoon hanging out with Dad and the sibs... The Glenwood Hot Springs pool is just glorious...this is the 104-degree thereapeutic pool, which you can visit year-round, but it's a special guilty delight when it's 32 degrees out of the water.