It had to happen. After LoDo filled up with sports bars and law offices, one seedy old Denver neighborhood after another has been renovated and, in the process, emptied of the artists and low-rent inhabitants who gave each area a unique flavor. And now the bohemian crowd has discovered yet another new homeland where the rents are cheap and the liquor flows -- and it just happens to be in the suburb that endured years of ridicule as a soulless collection of subdivisions. The action is centered on East Colfax Avenue, which boasts a collection of buildings dating from the 1940s and 1950s -- and

that qualifies as historic in Aurora. The area has struggled for years to find an identity; the addition of dozens of frazzled artists from the city is sure to shake those Stepford wives wide awake.

There aren't many mustaches on TV, period, so give Greg Moody credit for growing the proudest, bushiest one imaginable -- like Groucho Marx's, except this one's made from follicles, not greasepaint.
There aren't many mustaches on TV, period, so give Greg Moody credit for growing the proudest, bushiest one imaginable -- like Groucho Marx's, except this one's made from follicles, not greasepaint.
Less than two years since she arrived in Denver from a TV stint in Miami, KCNC anchor Theresa Marchetta has established herself as a take-no-crap news reader with a straightforward style and an aversion to the usual lowest-common-denominator approach. Even a series of reports on her own treatment for thyroid cancer -- the sort of story that could easily have been played as melodrama -- were clear-eyed and watchable. Television needs more anchors like her.
Less than two years since she arrived in Denver from a TV stint in Miami, KCNC anchor Theresa Marchetta has established herself as a take-no-crap news reader with a straightforward style and an aversion to the usual lowest-common-denominator approach. Even a series of reports on her own treatment for thyroid cancer -- the sort of story that could easily have been played as melodrama -- were clear-eyed and watchable. Television needs more anchors like her.
It's hard to be a saint in the city, and even harder to hang in the 'burbs. So Highlands Ranch teens decided to go underground -- literally. But now that county workers have exposed local storm drains sporting graffiti, beer cans, candles and other evidence of adolescent occupation, the hip factor of these hideouts has gone into the sewer. Where next? The missile silos on the plains were uncovered years ago...
It's hard to be a saint in the city, and even harder to hang in the 'burbs. So Highlands Ranch teens decided to go underground -- literally. But now that county workers have exposed local storm drains sporting graffiti, beer cans, candles and other evidence of adolescent occupation, the hip factor of these hideouts has gone into the sewer. Where next? The missile silos on the plains were uncovered years ago...
National media outlets long ago shifted their attention to more catastrophe-ridden states (after all, the networks couldn't show that clip of JonBenét forever), but Colorado still sets the pace for the rest of the country. That's because the National Institute of Standards and Technology, the hundred-year-old independent agency that started out as the National Bureau of Standards, has a laboratory in Boulder that maintains the nation's atomic clocks. Got the time? You will if you check time.gov, as fifty million others do every day.

National media outlets long ago shifted their attention to more catastrophe-ridden states (after all, the networks couldn't show that clip of JonBenét forever), but Colorado still sets the pace for the rest of the country. That's because the National Institute of Standards and Technology, the hundred-year-old independent agency that started out as the National Bureau of Standards, has a laboratory in Boulder that maintains the nation's atomic clocks. Got the time? You will if you check time.gov, as fifty million others do every day.

Sitting dramatically on a rise above West 120th Avenue -- and just across from Chili's -- is the stunning Avaya Communications building. The work of world-famous Connecticut architects Kevin Roche and John Dinkeloo, the Avaya is clad in no less than a dozen kinds and colors of glass. Its most distinctive feature, though, is a 300-foot ocular atrium set on a diagonal (which yokels have mistaken for a satellite dish). The building is a real coup for Westminster, perhaps the last place you'd expect to find Colorado's first great architectural work of the 21st century.

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