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How’s your Aspen?

This was a hard blog to write seeing as how I’m from here, and it therefore felt somewhat fake, but….here we go anyway. As a chance to act slightly like a tourist in my own home, I procured the opportunity to house/dogsit in a home in Meadowood, in the Aspen territory. First, foremost, and obviously most important…packing for this adventure. I started off by grabbing my well used backpack and shoving any clothes within a five foot radius of myself into it. I was mislead by the weather being extraordinarily nice while I was packing and ended up with shorts, a dress, more shorts, a pair of pants with holes in them (it’s fashion), a crop top, one sweatshirt, a bathing suit (to tan obviously), and Chacos. Word. This packing method, however, would come back to haunt me, just a little dramatic irony for you kids lookin to make fun of me later. Obviously I grabbed my chargers because I am a millennial and what self-respecting millennial doesn’t bring a phone or iPad or Bluetooth speaker or Bluetooth headphones charger? Well I tell you what, I don’t have MUCH self respect, but I sure as shit have all of my chargers. Lastly, I grabbed my reusable bag for the grocery store because it’s Aspen and I was going to be a local acting like a tourist acting like a local…like any sane person would.

Even though I had been to this house before, I used my Waze gps app because A) I’m a tourist and don’t know where I’m going, and B) I wanted those app miles in order to keep succeeding in my life. The house I stayed in is right next to a colossal mansion…at least to me it is. Like wow, classic Aspen, mine however was tastefully perfect in size, I wouldn’t be getting lost, which is good for a first timer. And the pup was the cutest angel ever…

So, I was staying in Aspen, and of course this house has an amazing kitchen, and I hadn’t eaten dinner yet, so I obviously had to cook in this beautiful kitchen. And what elegant meal to cook for my first night in Aspen? The answer was clear to me….tacos. Next order of business, look and see what the kitchen has, and make a list of what I need. Common sense, easy. I looked through every single cupboard and drawer…every. single. one. This took a lot of time, and I came up somewhat empty handed. I found one ingredient that I needed…cumin. Otherwise I couldn’t even find salt and pepper, color me confused, but okay, that’s cool, I’m in Aspen, I can buy whatever I need of course.

Now…while I thought my reusable bags might help me look the part, I didn’t think of the fact that I was wearing my gym outfit still from earlier in the day, so strike one on that. It’s okay, I am good at recovering from public embarrassment. The cold temperatures from being 3000 feet higher in altitude than where I packed my bag where it was sunny and warm however….a little harder to deal with. So I ran. People stared. It’s cool. When in Aspen, buy organic right? Yes, however I couldn’t convince myself to buy the artisan cheese…I got regular stuff. Still tasty. I paid, packed up, and almost drove straight by the liquor store before realizing that I HAD to get wine cause I was in Aspen. I whipped around and ran inside (nothing screams “tourist” quite like terrible driving). I decided to get a nice bottle that I had never tried before; I went for the cheapest I could find that still had a cork because I’m a classy lady.

AND, on my way back I saw deer so I did what any tourist would do and stopped to take pictures! Excitement!

Dinner itself was uneventful if not delightfully delicious, and the cheap wine made me fall asleep without tossing and turning for three hours ahead of time because of all of the murderers that were obviously coming to get me since they all knew I was alone in a big house. I’m a hot commodity for murderers in the roaring fork valley apparently, and side note….murders don’t happen in the roaring fork valley, this is a lovely place to stay and visit, the humans that live around here are lovely #egocheck #psa.

Anyway, the next day was gorgeous and I had a few friends come hang out with me because when you’re DVT and you’re staying in a big house in Aspen, you invite your friends up to drink champagne. (DVT=down valley trash; and I use that term with complete love and acceptance.)

Here’s where the dramatic irony comes into play though….the Colorado weather took a turn…dun dun DUNNNNN. It snowed….a lot. Well, a lot for someone who brought sandals and a bathing suit and had a dog to walk three times a day.

This was less than ideal, however, I did look very Aspen when I went out to brunch with an indecently short skirt on. Nothing’s more “Aspen” than brunch in inappropriate clothes for the cold weather. Making my own dinner each night and cleaning the house up before leaving might have tipped me too far back on the scale of DVT than Aspen, but I was trying my hardest to act like somewhat of a tourist, while still hanging on to my “I’m actually a local” snob complex. It’s a beautiful place to live and it’s hard not to be proud of being lucky enough to have been born and raised in the roaring fork valley…even if I am DVT.

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