Wednesday, February 15, 2006

Let It Snow

There is a myth that persists throughout the American consciousness, which is that Colorado is all snow, all the time. This is because when folks think of Colorado, they tend to think of Vail and Aspen, where feet-thick powder is the raison d'etre. But what many don't realize is that 2 million of the state's 2.6 million inhabitants live along what's called the "front range," or the plateau that runs along the foothills. This plateau is flat. It looks at the mountains, but it is not in the mountains. Were one to describe its ecological makeup, one might call it "alpine desert"--i.e., high and dry.

Yesterday, as I drove back from dropping SAL at the Denver airport, I basked in the true beauty of life on the front range: clear blue skies, white peaked mountains on the Western horizon, space as far as the eye can see in every other direction. And tumbleweeds. Literally, tumbleweeds. (They're so cute! They tumble!)

Do you notice what's missing from this picture? Let me give you a hint: Over 22 inches of it dropped on my friends in NYC this past weekend, at the same time as SAL and I were driving around with the moon roof open.

But I shall now retreat from my high horse, as last night we did have a flurry. It happened as I was driving back from the hospital at around 10pm, after spending the afternoon/evening with J.Go and G.Bro as the latter awaited his second-to-last surgery. Other than a really, really weird anesthesiologist (when J.Go asked him a question he paused, looked directly at her, and said defensively, "Anesthesia is an art, not a science. Okay?") the whole thing went over pretty smoothly. We all LOVE his surgeon, Dr. Desai. Very capable, calm, responsive, explicative, and kind. I'm happy to report G.Bro is getting very good care.

Me, on the other hand? I'm getting no care whatsoever for what I suspect is a sinus infection. Damn that COBRA, which I don't understand at all. But getting sick might as well have been on the schedule. I got sick my first week in NYC as well, and back then I didn't even have a bed to sleep on. I'm much better off these seven years later in my little Victorian sublet room in my little Victorian house looking out my leaded Victorian windows at the beauteous mountains.


Anonymous Anonymous said...


I was thinking that perhaps you were missing some gay cowboys, but then I remembered you're in Boulder.

Glad that Mr GBro is in good care. Even if he does have a woo-woo anesthesiologist.


3:44 PM  
Blogger Go Go Guitar Girl said...

Hey now, there are plenty of cowboys in Boulder, but so far too few gays for my tastes. Then again I've spent most of my time in the hospital....

I'll send G.Bro your best, Big Time Movie Man. :)


7:05 PM  

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