"We are here to unlearn the teachings of the church, state, and our educational system. We are here to drink beer. We are here to kill war. We are here to laugh at the odds and live our lives so well that Death will tremble to take us." C. Bukowski
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Thursday, December 20, 2012
Visions Of Scrap Cookies Dance In My Head
Lovely Ouray, Colorado, 6 AM: Near zero out on our Christmas lighted deck. Dawn struggles against the cold grip of darkness. Snowplows rumble below, blue lights flashing, steel scraping ice... a familiar sight and sound this week.
Yawning Artisan bakers, up since four, sip coffee and alternate between incongruent nose-hair freezing bouts of shoveling drifts from storefronts and pulling racks of aromatic bread loaves from toasty ovens.
Clouds departed The Crevice overnight as Old Man Winter's tantrum raged eastward. He closed I-70 from Denver into Kansas; ground blizzards, you know... white-outs, wind, drifts... cows cowering in feedlots or frozen tundra pastures. They huddle in survival mode... backs to the gale, unmoving, blissfully unconscious of warmer times, living in the cow-now. It must have been a long night for those unfortunate enough to be on the outside. I wonder, do they draw straws?
I had had it with being cooped in house and hearth yesterday... warm as it was. So I grabbed the camera, layered up in warm, wind resistant clothes, and set out to walk our Victorian downtown. A little Christmas shopping might be good mental therapy, not to mention the visions of Mouse's Scrap Cookies, fresh out of the oven, dancing in my head. Lovely CJ, Barista Extraordinaire, presented me with a dilemma. Cookie and Coffee? Or, a pumpkin spice/eggnog milkshake. I opted for warmth.