On the ground at Blogorado

Miss D. and I arrived in Colorado yesterday afternoon, to check in with the gathering crowd of writers, bloggers and shooters at our annual Blogorado gathering.  It was great to exchange hugs and greetings with old friends, and make a couple of new ones, as we rendezvoused at the farm HQ.  The chatter was ceaseless as we caught up on each other’s news, inquired after those who hadn’t yet arrived, and giggled over inanities.

There’s a fine crop of kittens at the farm this year (you’ll remember, it’s where we got Ashbutt a couple of years ago).  These aren’t tame at all, and avoid contact – but once supper was served, they became a whole lot more interested in the paper plates on our laps.  As we finished, we put them down on the barn floor for the kittens to clean.  At one point, I counted five kittens paw-deep in one plate, all licking vigorously to make sure they vacuumed up whatever was available.  They would even tolerate the odd stroke or two, focused as they were on the more important things in life.  Some of them made determined, repeated efforts to get onto the tables where the food was being served, and had to be shooed off at frequent intervals.  I somehow doubt any will be tame enough to go home with attendees this year, but we’ll still enjoy the heck out of them.

Inevitably, since we’re all shooters, a certain amount of “show-and-tell” marked our gathering.  New toys were displayed, fondled and enthused over;  manufacturers and models were compared;  and arrangements made to try each other’s new toys at the shooting range over the next couple of days.  I don’t know what the round count will be by the time we finish, but I guarantee it’ll be in at least the thousands, and probably in five figures.  That’s the way of it at Blogorado.

(A quick word of explanation.  Blogorado is invitation-only;  it was set up that way right from the start.  Attendance is limited to those known to a reasonable number of those who formed part of the original group, who receive the “family” seal of approval;  and even then, FarmMom must individually agree to each new person who the rest of us would like to invite.  I and several others have problems every year with others, including complete strangers, who demand to know where we’re meeting so that they can turn up too.  I’m sorry, but that ain’t gonna happen.  Blogorado will remain a pretty intimate family gathering, so to speak, and will never be open to all comers.  That’s the way it was set up, and that’s the way it’ll stay.)

This morning we’ll gather for breakfast at the local café known to all and sundry as the Obligatory Cow Reference.  Farmgirl has to warn them every year of the date of our arrival, so they can stock up on food and hire extra staff to cope.  I’m sure we make a significant contribution to their annual profits during our get-togethers!  On the other hand, we don’t object, because they give us a private room (which we’ve been known to overflow sometimes).  Their food is delicious, and there’s always plenty of it.  I’m thinking this is a good morning for huevos rancheros smothered in green chili, served with a tortilla, beans, toast on the side, and all the trimmings.  My mouth’s already watering at the thought!

Blogging may be sparse over the next couple of days.  We’ll be heading out on Sunday to continue our research for the next few Ames books.



  1. To those who 'demand to know where we're meeting so that they can turn up too' the answer is simple. Tell them to go to Hell, Michigan.

  2. Peter,

    I'm glad that you safely made it through the west texas oil country. Currently it is not a pleasant or safe region to drive through.

  3. Let's see, eat, drink, converse, be merry, shoot, enjoy, repeat as necessary and toss in an occasional kitten for amusement. Sounds pretty good to me. 🙂

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