Well, we had a week or so of pretty decent (40′s to 50′s) dry weather, but now we’re back to powder days again. Springtime on the Rockies.
I actually managed to get myself out to the golf course a couple of times, even played two holes once.
Then we awoke to a new 12 inches in the driveway. There’s probably twice that atop Aspen Mountain. I’ll have to get up there and find out.
For the time being, all I can say is:
THANK GOD I GOT A BUNCH OF YARDWORK IN BEFORE ALL THIS SHOWED UP!
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Once again, the ESPN Winter X Games are upon us.
The weather’s milder this year than it has been in the past, which is a blessing, I guess. (We could always use more snow.)
I heard a radio interview with a competitor a few years ago, the day before he was going to attempt the first-ever complete back flip (360 degrees, vertical) on a snowmobile.
He said that the intriguing thing was that you really couldn’t practice it. You just had to go out and do it. Yikes!
He managed to pull it off, the next day.
But he also said that he’d spent 7 of the last 12 months in the hospital, with various injuries.
Which made me think:
THANK GOD I DON’T HAVE TO DO THIS FOR A LIVING!
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Every year for Wintersköl, we have a torchlight descent on Little Nell, followed by a great fireworks display overhead. It’s the one night of the winter when you don’t bring your dog to town. Dogs absolutely hate fireworks.
The rest of us get a big “kick” out of them, but our canine companions hide under beds and desks and whimper.
So, if I could sit down and reason with our family pooch, and after I’d run through all the reasons I could think of, my solace of last resort would be:
THANK GOD YOU DON’T LIVE IN MONTE CARLO!
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New Year’s is the time for making new resolutions. It should also be the time to remember the past, and put things into perspective.
Last New Year’s Eve, all of downtown Aspen (which is, admittedly, only about 8 blocks long and 4 blocks wide) was roped off– quarantined– because of a bomb scare. And in these terrorist-riddled days, the police can’t be too complacent.
So New Year’s Eve partying was confined to the non-commercial venues. I.e., people’s houses. (One of my kids thought that maybe we should spend the night with friends out in Snowmass, as if the Aspen “metro” area was potentially about to be engulfed in a mushroom cloud a la Hiroshima/Nagasaki.
And as it turned out, the bomb threat had been called in not by some crazed muslim, but by a crazed Aspenite. Long-time Aspenite, with full Aspen-crazy pedigree. (Who killed himself, shortly thereafter.)
Makes you rue the loss of “the good old days.”
As my 15-year-old likes to say: “Just joking.”
At least we can say:
THANK GOD WE GOT THROUGH A NEW YEAR’S WITHOUT ANOTHER ONE OF THOSE GOD-AWFUL-FOR-BUSINESS BOMB THREATS!
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