This, friends, is a moderately poor example of what 68 degrees looks like in the heart of Denver in mid to late January, aught nine. It was a historic and powerful day full of hope, clean air and co-eds wandering around in tank tops. The high pressure system that is sitting over the West is forceful and controlling and I'm loving every single second of its presence . . . particularly when I see what's going on in the Midwest and in our Nation's capitol. I don't know what else to say really. It's nothing short of a pleasure to be wandering about in short sleeves this time of year. It doesn't make any kind of sense and that is precisely what makes it so enjoyable. Colorado's weather is rife with schizophrenia and that's one of the main reasons I like living here. Mother Nature will give you a deep, sensual and tongue-filled kiss one minute and then kick you square in the balls the next. The unpredictability and violence is sexy. At least in my eyes.
Tomorrow's going to be even better . . . at least according to thy Sabine:
You probably already know that 71 would best the record of 70 set, I believe, in 1950. What you probably did not know is that Ms. Sabine might be either a robot or a ghost or extremely thin; the evidence of this is clearly visible when viewing her right arm in this photo. It's like seeing an X-ray of her doing the wanking motion over the state of Texas. Well played, ghost Kath.