The house of Mork & Mindy is officially a pilgrimage site. There aren’t great crowds hanging around, but there is a steady stream of people coming and going and leaving flowers and mementos. I think that Robin Williams actually erased the boundaries between fiction and reality.
Lunch at Chipotle #1. The last dregs of the lunch crowd were finishing up. The snow storm now falling was still on its way so the lighting in the room wasn’t as relentlessly gray as it is right now. When I look out the window now, I can only take the existence of the Flatirons on faith.
So here I am again in the wonderful People’s Republic of Boulder (do they still call it that?) (Nobody tells me anything.) It is, as you might imagine, freezing. The temperatures these past days when we have been here are in what I like to term the basement of the world. When I last asked Siri, it was 5°. I do not want to talk to Siri any more for a while. That’s the basement […]
Snow chairs. Yes, the snow here in Boulder really is this deep. Related articles Boulder snow (white-pebble.net)
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled. — TS Eliot (@TSElibot) November 5, 2011
It’s snowing in Boulder — nothing better from my point of view. At home in Cincinnati, we get endless gray skies punctuated with a bit of rain. Here, mounds of lovely fluffy snow with the promise of the return of the sunshine within a couple of days. I shall spend my day doing Pilates (they have a whole Institute here for the stuff!) and writing. And inevitably, I shall end up writing about sunshine and summer in Cincinnati. […]
You know you’re in Boulder when… You watch a would-be panhandler make a sign that says “TOO UGLY TO WORK.” The hot-dog cart on the sidewalk has bratwursts made of elk meat. More later…