You can blame me...

If we (the Denver, Colorado area) get dumped on with snow over the next two days you can blame me. I take 100%, full and total, no excuses, responsibility.

I was at Lowe’s yesterday with my beloved better half. And there they were. All lined up in gleaming reds and yellows, from small to huge, each whispering until reaching a cacophony of fever pitch: “Buy me!”  

I’m talking snow blowers folks. Big manly (sorry ladies) behemoths of snow gurgitating mechanical muscle just waiting to get out in this weekend’s coming MEGASTORM. I could finally ditch that old whimpy shovel that has stood me in good stead for all these many years. But no. I resisted. I knew, in my heart of hearts, that should I buy one of these wondrous creations that I’d spend Saturday and Sunday looking out the window watching RAIN fall from the sky instead of the white stuff. Or worse yet, the storm would completely miss us and it would be another balmy March weekend spent riding my bike and gardening with my wife. I am, if nothing else,  a diehard believer in Mr. Murphy and his Laws of contradiction. So, if you’re out there flinging snow a foot high over your shoulder tomorrow or the next day, it’s on me. My stubborn refusal to give a good home to one of these beautiful machines has brought snowmageddon upon you.

I mention gardening because that is what took me to Lowe’s on a still sunny and somewhat warm Thursday. More specifically, that is what took my wife to Lowe’s on a mission. I was only the instrument of her arrival. You see, this time of year the buds on my wife’s lilacs are starting to swell and turn green, crocus are starting to peek above the dirt for the first time in months, and before you know it I’ll be dragging out that other marvel of mechanical engineering called the lawnmower. When my wife gets the gardening itch it’s lead, follow, or get out of the way. And lets be honest, it’s just follow because if there was ever a woman in charge it’s my wife when there’s the glint of soon-to-be Spring flowers in her eye. And I can’t exactly opt for getting out of the way for she needs a good beast of burden and I took that plunge some thirty one years ago when I promised to love honor and lug bag after bag of top soil (why I didn’t invest in MiracleGro years ago is beyond me) and wide assortments of potted plants, trees, garden gnomes, gazing balls, solar powered lights and all the appurtenances that are requisite for the fine sport of planting flowers and watching them die under the intense gaze and heat of the Colorado summer sun.

Oh, and fertilizer. My beloved was sensible enough to suggest that, given the upcoming moisture dump, “wouldn’t it be smart if WE (my wife has an amazing sense of humor) put out some lawn food/fertilizer/weed killer" ahead of the weekend’s amusement of shoveling feet of snow. Yup, lead, follow, or get out the fertilizer spreader. 

Thankfully, as I write this I can gaze out the window at dark leaden skies that look like the weather maestros might have actually gotten this forecast right. So no gardening today! A blog or two ago I had mentioned that during the February deep freeze (remember that my Texas friends?) I was transported, at least figuratively, to the warm New Zealand summer and the Hauraki Gulf (Tikapa Moana to the original locals) and the city of Aukland that is hosting the America’s Cup sailing race. The qualifying series (the Prada Cup), having  been concluded with the spanking of both the American and Great Britain teams by the Italian Luna Rossa squad, the stage is now set for the actual America’s Cup races. Team New Zealand (which has developed a nasty habit of holding onto AMERICA’S Cup) has been waiting impatiently in the wings. The format is two races a day and apart from a rest day yesterday (the first two races took place two days ago) will continue until one country wins seven races. 

For me the competition is secondary to the simple beauty of seeing extraordinary craft fly around the race course often exceeding speeds that would get you a speeding ticket here in the U.S.A. It’s a little ironic that what has to be one of the world’s most expensive sports has no prize money to be won. It’s bragging rights only that go to the ultimate winner along with the pleasure of being able to hoist the oldest international sporting trophy above your head while spraying champagne. 

Since I’m sitting on my duff gazing out my manicured lawn awaiting its soft winter blanket, I’d be remiss to acknowledge that other event that happened on Monday - International Women's Day. I went for a hike at Genesee Mountain Park with my friend Cecelia on Wednesday and asked her how she had celebrated "her" day. A pretty muted response came my way and I guess that's fair for a day of recognition that exists only because every other day is pretty much (unfairly) 'Men's Day'. With that in mind I asked the America's Cup commentators - Stephen, Shirley, Nathan, and Ken - why there were no female crew on the America's Cup boats: 

"Now that the real show is beginning wanted to give you guys kudos on the commentary side. Stephen, Shirley, Nathan, and Ken thank you for bringing  the cup to life through your insightful narrative.  HOWEVER, you have caused some marital discord in my household that requires your Cup expertise. I’ve been patiently trying to explain the nuances of the America’s Cup to my better half and her questions have been getting tougher as she continues to get a handle on what’s going on out on the water. Last night she asked a question that I’m not touching with a ten foot gybe pole. Looking at me with her sweetest expression she asked me, in light of Monday’s significance (if you don’t know the answer to that you’re already in trouble) , “why are there no women sailing as crew on any of these boats?” Ouch. I was loathe to bring up watts per kilo and power output not because she wouldn’t understand (my wife teaches kinesiology at the college level) but because I didn’t want to fall into the “if you need BRUTE strength, you hire...” trap. Shirley (or any of the guys if you’re brave enough), can you help me out? Please!?!?"

As much as I'm enjoying watching the sailing fun in the sun down under, I'm sad to say I haven't had any response. Come on guys, the silence is deafening.

Still, the scenery is spectacular, the air is warm, and the competition fierce so why not curl up this weekend and watch some nice folks head out for a sail? 

Here's a teaser...

Now where's that shovel?