Popination Hibernation Station
a series of unhinged personal essays disguised as pub reviews. Today: I’m on vacay!
An art gallery, a winery, and the Other Side.
Dangit we really needed that vacation.
It’s easy, even when one has access to a comfy 3rd Place, to fall victim to the dreaded burnout. Especially when one works from home.I don’t know when the last time was that my partner had an actual day off, and I myself was starting to feel like the sedentary menopausal brain fog was the new norm. Part of this, of course, is a vestige of what I think we all feel post-pandemic, but an entire change of scenery, especially into one of beautiful mountains, far away from civilization, sounded like just the thing. So we ended our week on Wednesday, packed up the new truck, and went on up to the in-laws’.
The Other Side
I’ve talked about The Other Side before, back around the winter holidays when I described the three facets of my in-laws’ mountain home: their own residence, the Space Between, and The Other Side. This trip, it was only the two of us up there, and so we took over the entire Other Side.
The duplex connection to the main part of the house is actually officially called The Other Side, an erstwhile Airbnb that is now not being rented out to anyone, but has always been another comfort zone for visiting family. It’s a whole ‘nother place, two bedrooms and a really comfortable leather couch where Partner and I have spent many a lovely chat over wine to get away from the bustle of the familial crowd, or when it’s too cold out to watch the birds.
We did lots of reading and sipping of wine and conversing on that couch this time, too, though it was never too cold for birdwatching. Our goal was to use this vacation as a partial creativity retreat, part rest, and part family visit, of course. Partner didn’t end up doing as much reading or writing as planned, but he got 2 (2!) new instruments and continues to make amazing sounds come out of them. Me, I got a good amount of writing done but it turns out that’s not really what the trip ended up being for. Or about. There’s something, indeed, when one is suffering from workplace burnout (in one’s 1st place, no less), to just sit outside. Not even with a phone in front of one. Just to sit, and sip on something incredible and locally made, and rock gently, and watch the birds. And the deer. And the marmots, for some reason—what’s up with the myriad marmots this trip? I don’t know, but I wouldn’t have noticed it had I been buried in my socials, or my grading. Or even my writing.
Really, Jenn? Marmots? Are they important? Are they that much more interesting than your Very Important Work? Well I don’t know, but what I do know is that they’re a lot more rufus-colored than I expected, and that seeing a bunch of them and going Wow I wonder why so many, is a vast improvement on grinding burnout executed on a gray couch.
(Don’t misunderstand me: my couch is very nice, and quite comfy. But it’s also my office. So. You know what I mean.)
Cedars and birds and ciders, oh my!
Cedaredge is a pretty cool place, if a rural and a quiet for daily wear. It’s high up there within the mesas—the nature alone makes the nearly 5-hour drive a constant awe-striking sight. From the canyon to the odd extruded-looking landscape near deBeque, which looks right out of an away mission in Star Trek Original series, it’s all amazing to gaze at.
The town itself is small, rural in culture, with little grungy shops and roadside stands and well yes a Trump sign or two. But I learned to shoot from my in-laws in a rough outdoor range next to an elk farm. And I don’t shoot well most of the time, but I did catch the edge of a clay pigeon once when we did shotguns and there’s nothing quite like that feeling, really. Something similar to my propensity for swords. And speaking of beautiful, cool, dangerous instruments or implements?
Starr’s Guitars
Nestled right up in the center of the wee downtown area is one of the highest level boutiques selling some of the most famous and select guitars of all kinds that you’ll find in the whole nation. David Starr is guitar purveyor to the … stars? Gods even, and when my musically inclined partner felt a mighty need, hey it’s okay to window shop, right? Even to try some instruments out—you can’t really tell what a musical instrument is like without playing it. And every instrument in the place has been taken well care of: each one is in tune right off the rack, and all have new good strings on them at all times. It’s almost more like a zoo/sanctuary than a store, what with the care and knowledge obviously put on all the wares.
So anyway we left with a tiny delicate steel drum for the smaller stepgremlin, and a smallish incredibly gorgeous myrtle wood salon guitar that sounds like it’s 5 times the size it is. For partner. Hey, he touched it, and it was magic.
A room of one’s own
…or a room away from one’s own. Sometimes the latter is just what is needed to jumpstart-cable the ol’ brain. Hence how often I frequent my 3rd place. And this retreat was. The idea was: write, read, rest. (The 3 Rs? sure, I’ll allow it.) It turned out way more about meditation and time to refresh and especially the rest, than anything else, as I mentioned, and that’s exactly what it should have been. Plans be darned.
There are three large soft leather chairs throughout the whole place that I like to curl up in and read or write or watch the men I love play pool: one is up in the main residence and it’s my most frequent parking spot over the Xmas holidays for cheese nibbling and wine sipping and reading jolabokaflod books. The couch on the Other Side is a really good place to read and it’s always the perfect temperature there, no matter the season. And the chair in the Space Between faces the pool table, so that’s where I sip whiskey and root for my partner or my dad-in-law or my stepgoblin as they play elaborate tournaments.
Sorry to tempt you with tales of the Other Side, but it’s no longer for the public. Nyah. Ahem. Sorry.
Cideredge
Cider at Cedaredge is a thing—apples are a big deal there: they even have a yearly citywide party called Applefest. Never been to that, I’m afraid, since I’m never up there in the Fall. So this time I wanted to sample some of the mythical cider. We went to the big art gallery which also normally housed the Apple Shed, looked around at the art, and then found the bar. It was all good old barrel wood, arrayed with more and more art, including the bottle labels. But it looked like all wine. Turns out the cider was relegated to a cidery across the way a couple years ago. Problem is, the place hasn’t been able to open yet. Which. The only place that sells the Cedaredge cider, isn’t selling the cider? Hm. That can’t be good.
So, wine it was! We recovered quickly from our disappointment and sampled some of the most complex and delectable wines I’ve ever tasted. Chatted with the bartender, too, and got to hear a bunch of the history of the place and some of the wine knowledge of the recent favorites. After, we found ourselves relaxing again, sipping on a hibiscus viognier, out on the birdwatching porch, as a conclusion to the vacation at the Hibernation Station.
This break was a simply sublime idea. It’s going to be that much harder for us to get back to the daily grind.
‘Scuse me while I pop another utepils and meditate upon the birds. Both patio seats are rocking chairs, so I just might… soothe myself… to… zzzzz…
