Things I like

In no particular order:

~ People who say "bless you" when a stranger sneezes.
~ That scuba-diving cat commercial.
~ Being an aunt.
~ A mist bottle full of water on hot, hot days.
~ Pigeons, pigeons, and more pigeons.
~ This car commercial where a raccoon sings about a mountain.
~ Fruit smoothies.
~ My Blistex "moisture splash" lip balm, especially in the winter when the roller ball gets all cold.
~ Several of the musicians who can be often found on the 16th street mall.
~ My Tevas.
~ National Geographic.
~ The prairie dogs who hang out along railroads and the road to the airport.

Not an exclusive list by any means, of course. Just a few.

Some like it hot... me, not so much

Back in 1901, folks in Denver were having a rather warm time of it. 18 days in a row of temperatures over 90 degrees. Of course, the average person probably didn't know that. I don't know if they had information like weather forecasts (or results) in the papers back then, but I'm quite sure they didn't have any overly perky meteorologists broadcasting straight into their living rooms from news station "back yards." So they probably didn't realize, at the time, that they were setting a record that would not be broken for over a century. They probably just knew that it was reeaally freakin' hot, and they didn't have air conditioning (...but then again, neither do I).

But we've sure heard a lot about 1901 in Denver lately. Why, you might ask? Oh, I'll tell you! That would be because, day by day, the aforementioned perky meteorologists-- and even the somewhat more serious anchors and reporters, everyone's in on the countdown!-- have been ticking off the days till that record is met, broken, and thoroughly stomped upon.

Today was tie day. For the last 18 days, counting today, we've had days of over 90 degrees. Many of those well over 90. Today we were 10 degrees above average, at 99. We've had days that were 10 degrees hotter than Phoenix. (And we get more sunburned, too, so don't even start whining, Phoenix. We know all of your apartments have A/C.)

Tomorrow will be the day we break that record. The only question is, where will it end?

No one knows. Not even the overly perky meteorologists. But yes, I am quite confident-- as are all those who actually seem sort of excited about this rather dubious distinction in the pages of weather history-- that the record will be broken. Tomorrow has a predicted high of 99 degrees (the record for that day was 100, set in 1899... so we may be about to put an end to some even more long-lived records). Friday, 100. Saturday, 101 (are we noticing a trend here?... thank goodness I'll be on a plane by the time that high hits!) Sunday, 97. By the time Monday rolls around, there will be a "cool down" (and they WILL refer to it in such terms!) for a high of a mere 92. I'm sort of scared to look beyond that. What I do know is that as of today, we've already had 3 more days over 90 degrees than the average Denver summer has all season. We're also about 7 inches behind on rain. I think we've had about 3.5 inches of precipitation of any kind since New Year's. That includes all the snow that people in Michigan (Michigan?? REALLY, people??) warned me about, when I was first heading Colorado-ward.

So anyway, that's what I'm doing. Lots of being hot and wilting. Not cleaning my apartment, which desperately needs it, because it is too hot to move. Not sleeping very well, despite desperately needing it, because it is too hot to sleep. Not eating much when at home, despite desperately liking food, because it is too hot to live off pretty much anything but fruit smoothies and iced tea.

Hot, hot, hot. I like it not.

So anyway, while contemplating all of this this evening, while folding baby socks and melting on my futon, I wondered what Denver was like back in the 1901 that I've heard so much about of late. So I googled it, and this picture is supposedly of Denver around that time ("circa 1898"). Well, it is definitely of Denver-- the Brown Palace hotel is still standing, 16th and Broadway still meet at that angle, and the mountains still loom in the background-- but much else has changed, so it is a little strange to try and decipher what is what, and imagine the things that are now in those places.


Speaking of things in places, this picture was reportedly taken from the top of the State Capitol... which means that if the photographer turned around in just about the opposite direction, the spot where my apartment now stands would be about 4 blocks away. In the picture, if you follow Broadway (the gray-paved road in the foreground that looks slanty, but actually runs North-South) just a couple of blocks beyond where it would run off the right side of the picture, there is where my work is now.

So, for those friends & family afar who want to see where I live... that's it. Sort of. Just 110 years earlier. And not quite as hot.

I'm an aunt!

So, if you haven't already heard, the big news of the week is... I'm an aunt!

Well, I have been for several months now, but the fact is my little bitty niece & nephew have now actually made their appearance outside of their mama, and have cute little faces that we can see, and little squalling newborn voices that we can hear, and their little hands and feet now have room to flail about (though I imagine, and from the many pictures it appears, that like most newborns they probably prefer to just be bundled and nap). And names! Sebastien & Eden are the latest additions to the family, and they are soooo precious!

Perhaps I am biased, since I can claim some genetic connection to the little miracles. But really, I think the facts speak for themselves. I told them to stay put until they were fully baked, and lo and behold, they did! See, so well-behaved already! They are beautiful and healthy little babies and I cannot wait to meet them in person in a couple of weeks! (I've already spoken with Eden on the phone. Yup.)

More importantly, I cannot wait to watch them grow. I mean, meeting them will be super cool and all, but with all likelihood they'll still be in that bundle-y, nap-y newborn phase. (I do hope they open their eyes, though. They have pretty eyes. And they need to start getting the idea of who this Aunt Corrie character is.) But the exciting part is going to be watching them grow and learn and express their unique personalities-- these little humans who entirely began existing in the last year. And now get to be people of their very own.

And I get to be a part of that. (Unless my brother and sister-in-law join some sort of cult or something. But I don't foresee that happening any time soon. And if it did, I'd probably just have to intervene and run off with the twinsies.) Helping them grow and learn and explore the world and try new things and become Lions fans. ;)

That's what's really exciting about being an aunt. Well, I guess I don't know. Maybe there's something more exciting about it, that I haven't discovered yet, because of course, this is my first shot at being one.

In the meantime, welcome to the world, Sebastien & Eden. It's a big place, and can be sort of scary sometimes, especially when you've just come from a place that's so warm and cozy and safe. But your Aunt Corrie is here and you can always come find me when you need somebody to help you navigate it. I'm so glad you're here.


(p.s. below are pictures added later, from when I got to first meet the little bambinos. Are they just perfect, or WHAT?! The kids I mean. Though the pictures are memorable, too.)

Why I'm having trouble getting (back) behind Barack Obama

Two words: Obama fans.

I used to like Barack Obama. I thought he was fabulous. When he was elected to the senate in '04, one of my roommates at the time was from Illinois, so it was a matter of note in our household.

Mind you, to begin with I had some reservations about his run for presidency. His lack of extensive experience, for one. His charismatic personality-- I don't personally think "rock star" politicians are a good thing. They too easily sway people. Lots of bad things have happened throughout history because of charismatic, convincing leaders. Not that I'm saying he's about to attempt one such bad thing. I just think people should have to evaluate their candidate's policies a bit more, rather than just swooning the minute they appear on TV (I still think Al Gore would have made a great president. But people thought he was boring. That and the whole rigged election thing, I mean... but it wouldn't have come down to that if more people had actually thought about who or what they were voting for. We are a shallow, shallow country sometimes). And, I'm really a H. Clinton fan.

That all being said, the point is that I used to really dig Obama, and thought he was a great addition to the political climate of our country.

But there are Obama fans who are just some of the most obnoxious people I know.

Ok, before you jump all over me: not all Obama fans, nor even the vast majority, I'm sure. I know and love many an Obama supporter, who are for the most part well-adjusted, reasonably sane people who give proper importance to their core beliefs and don't freak out about things that don't matter. But something about this primary race has brought out just the most disgusting rabid fanaticism in a small but very vocal portion of Obama fans-- something I have not witnessed in any previous primary race, even if this one may have been somewhat unique.

My stance from the beginning was "I think either Obama or Clinton would make an excellent president. However, I think Clinton has more experience. And I think it's high time for a woman president. There's real change for you-- historically advance have gone white men, minority men, white women, minority women." I'm not trying to decide which minority status is most important. Hell, if there was a minority woman running for a major party, that'd be even cooler. As long as it wasn't, like, Condoleeza Rice or something. (Ahem, Green Party, anyone??)

But I have seen a few Obama fans get thoroughly petty, personal, obsessive, offensive, and generally lose any shadow of a grasp on reality and how normal people in society interact. I have dreaded the beginning of political conversations for the first time in my life, because they were so rarely intelligent political discussions. They were groupie rants with some of the most blatantly stated double standards I've ever heard uttered by people who claim to be intelligent and socially conscious citizens.

So the point of ALL of this is, I'm trying, folks. Really I am. So to all the nice, sane, normal people who were always fans of Obama, please do your best to rein in your obnoxious compatriots. I am trying my best to look past them to support someone I always meant to be supportive of in the first place.

(Of course... it probably doesn't help that his people called me at 7:15 this morning. They're lucky I was already up. I did laugh out loud at the woman when she asked me for $300, though.)

Have you ever seen the rain...

This afternoon, as it was-- for yet another day-- too hot to even think of moving, and the run of good TV luck I'd been having for a couple of hours had expired, I returned to my bedroom to pick up the National Geographic where I'd left off last night. However, after finishing one article and halfway into the next, my head could no longer resist the inescapable draw of the pillow (correction: pillows, as I think I have 6 on my bed).

What brought on this weakness? Perhaps it was the comfort of my wonderful bed (this is a recurring problem while trying to read, due to my ongoing failure to acquire any kind of actual furniture for my living room). Perhaps it was the momentary escape from the obnoxious, ongoing screeching/humming noise of unspecified origin which had started outdoors some time earlier in the day, and which could be heard clearly throughout the rest of the apartment. Perhaps it was the belly happily full of tofu sloppy joe. Perhaps it was just the heat.

Anyway, I awoke from my dozing just long enough to fumble for my phone and set the alarm for some 45 minutes later, lest I doze all evening. I didn't make it even that long, however. For some reason, about 15 minutes later I found myself awake, stretching like a sleepy kitty and drowsily gazing out of my sheer-purple-IKEA-curtained windows at the sky over the building across the street. I saw its gray hue. I saw the dozen or so drops of wetness on the middle of my windowpane-- appearing to be one of those little splashes that comes some times, when the wind grows strong and there is the teasingest sense of a storm coming... only to have a few small droplets whipped against the window, and then nothing.

Yet as I lay there, I had the growing sensation that it was actually raining. As in, present tense. Could I be dreaming? I peered down at the street, only to find it dark with wetness. Hurray!!

For those of you who live in Michigan, or other equally soggy parts of the world-- especially if you've never lived anywhere else-- you will not fully understand the sheer joy that rain brings to those, such as myself, who are used to wetter climes but now find themselves stranded in arid landscapes. Once or twice (I think twice is wishful thinking, as I can only recall one occasion for certain) in the fall, I saw it rain very hard in Denver... for about 2 minutes. So perhaps you can understand my haste as I traded in my long skirt for shorts (the better to feel the cool rain, of course) and hunted for my keys, that I could get outside and feel the rain before it was gone, not to return for days, weeks, or months.

In Michigan, you wonder if you'll be able to make it indoors before the rain begins. In Colorado, you wonder if you'll be able to make it outdoors before the rain ends. At least, if you're from Michigan, you do.

Leaving my apartment, intending just to go around the block, I marveled that this could be the only time in Denver that I could actually venture outdoors without sunglasses (my shades are usually a constant companion, even all winter). I ran down to the back door of my building. Peering out the squares of glass in the door, I wondered at the bright sun and whether it was even still raining anymore. A glance down at the cement pad behind the building, however, confirmed that it was, with little raindrops dancing on the already-moistened ground.

I happily stepped out into the rain-- now in the strong sunshine of broad daylight in the Rockies, I probably could have used my shades after all-- and headed down the alley, intending to start with a little trip around 1/4 of my block, to see how hard it was raining (and because I'd heard a slight and distant thunder rumble, while still in my apartment) before heading all the way around the block.

Now when I say that I stepped into the rain, I do not mean it was pouring cats or dogs or any other sort of small creatures. It was brightly sunny, and while it was a little bit more than misting-- I could see actually droplets on my clothes-- I would have had to stay out in it for quite some time to get any amount of really seriously wet. Yet people in Colorado tend to overreact to any sort of moisture that isn't snow. No, I take that back, they overreact to snow, too, because the snow here (down in Denver, anyhow) usually melts within a day or two, on all things paved anyway, and all winter I did not see anything like the ice of Michigan form on road or sidewalk.

So yes, Coloradans generally act like they will melt at the slightest hint of water. Shortly after moving to Denver, I saw people walking around in full rain gear (I don't think I ever even saw rain pants-- is that even what they're actually called??-- in person, in Michigan) and giant golf umbrellas, in the mildest of mists. I once saw a headline that read something like "Coloradans beware: Moisture on the way!"

The first person I encountered on my rain-sprinkled walk was a woman on a cell phone. I smiled at her. She eyed me suspiciously from under the rim of her huge black umbrella. I fully assume that after completing her phone call, she hastily dialed up whomever one dials up when one suspects that there is a certifiably crazy person wandering the streets, lacking even the sense to get in out of the rain. Good thing she didn't know where I live.

I continued my journey around half of the block, cutting back down the alley and returning through the back door of my apartment building. By the time I reached it, I could barely feel any more misty drops on my skin. There were still dry patches of sidewalk beneath even the small trees. Half an hour after the last raindrop fell, you can barely tell any came down at all.

Still, not a bad sprinkle for Colorado. I bet the entire shower must have lasted like 4, maybe even 5 minutes, though. Good stuff. Good stuff.