O...M...G

Yep, he did.  I almost couldn't believe it myself until I remembered who I was dealing with.  Fred got all the way down to the drop off point to fly fish, before he realized he had forgotten his waders.  Boots?  Check.  Waders?  Nope.  Short of forgetting his fly rod, waders seem to be mission critical, to me, considering the water is colder than hell.  Driving back up to the condo, I was schooled on how I was not to tell this on my blog.  And in a moment of sheer lunacy (his), he almost said the "F" word--forbid--and then bit it back quickly, as I cackled hysterically.  Oh, man...talk about green lighting something.  You even hint at the word forbid, and you can just consider it DONE.  For future fishing trips, I think we're gonna have to employ the time tested, no fail, gear check list.  Otherwise, next time that water's gonna be pretty chilly on his bare skin, in his shorts.

Now that I finished that, I have to say that he has been one heck of a tour guide.  Usually, that's been my department but for this trip, I turned it all over to him.  We just returned from the glass blower, dinner at Cuvee in Basalt, and the art gallery opening for a new show.  All of it was fun and the food at Cuvee was easily as good and maybe better, as any pricier, see and be seen spot in Aspen, and just as charming.  It was on our list but the glass blower said to definitely try it, so we did.  We both had lamb and it was the best I've had in ages.  And my salad was to die for : spinach with a wonderful garlicky dressing, toasted pecans, dried cranberries, a mysterious unidentified dark but tasty mushroom, and little "tater tots" of fried cheese as garnish.  We sat outside and as the sun began to drop, so did the temperature.  Right as we were finishing up, out came my fleece. Puurrrrfect.

Since tomorrow is our last full day, we are planning to chill out and maybe go back to Basalt to their Farmers Market.  It's supposed to be lots more normal and fun than the Aspen one. " Mr. Activity" has gone full throttle since that's what happens to him when he doesn't take time off for himself, for too long.  He just gets wired and then ultimately fries out.  A lot of Harris males do that so it's nothing new and you can't prevent it--you just stand back and wait with a pillow, until they drop.  And they do. 

I can't get over how dog friendly everyone is.  Two older dapple dachshunds, Oliver and Stanley, walked by with their dad, as we were having dinner.   We had to speak and they stopped, briefly, to chat.  Sis would have had a cow.

Somebody wanted you all to see his big brown trout.