Ouch...

The needle only looked like it was more suited for a horse. In reality it couldn't have been longer than, say, maybe 10 inches. And when the nice nurse said "On the count of three!" but jabbed me at "Two!" I guess my yelp of "Ouch" was excusable. 

My 'Fauci Ouchie', as my wife refers to it, means I've now joined the 121 million of my fellow Americans who have received at least the first Covid vaccination shot. Which means I'm a 24 percenter! My wife and her mother had received their first and second shots almost a month ago so I'm a little late to the party but at least I got my first dose in time for Governor Polis to announce he's relinquishing control of most Covid restrictions back to the County level which means the free-for-all is about to begin. Wear a mask? Social distance? Wash your hands? Breathe deeply, mask-free, at a Red Rocks concert this summer? (C'mon, haven't you dearly missed the clouds of sweet-smelling ganja wafting over you and 9,500 of your closest friends?) It will all depend on the county in which you reside. 

I get my second dose come April after about three weeks between shots. My wife, who was born in Long Beach, California (I think that qualifies her as an 'American', at least it used to) has relatives up in the still-frozen tundra of Canada who are being told they'll have to wait four months between the first and second poke in the arm. The very scientific rationale behind the extended wait? Simply put, Canada doesn't have enough vaccine to go around. Yet down here some 30% of Americans are telling pollsters (for whatever that's worth) that they don't plan on getting the shot at all. Maybe we can send their unused vaccine up to the Great White North where it might be more appreciated. 

In my household the great debate has now begun - after getting vaccinated do we suddenly return to 'normal'? As in stop wearing masks, stop socially distancing, return to the gym in person instead of taking those wonderful online yoga and workout classes? I'm not generally one to follow the crowd which in this case seems more than ready to proclaim victory over the virus. Oddly reminiscent of former President George W. Bush announcing "Mission Accomplished!" regarding the war in Iraq aboard the aircraft carrier USS Abraham Lincoln in May, 2003. Of course history had something else in mind as the Iraq war dragged on for y e a r s beyond his momentous announcement. 

All we're getting right now seem to be mixed messages. Saturday, when I got my shot, they gave me a packet that said keep doing what we've been doing (at least most of us) for the better part of a year and counting. The CDC (Center for Disease Control) website tells me once I'm fully vaccinated I can "gather indoors with fully vaccinated people without wearing a mask". Yahoo! I can go to my favorite restaurant again! All I have to worry about is whether all the other unmasked diners are also fully vaccinated or simply part of the 50% of Americans who have chosen not to wear masks when out in Public. 

The numbers aren't much help, at least not in supporting the "Mission Accomplished" argument. We're still seeing roughly 54,000 new cases per day and more than 1,000 of us continue to die every 24 hours. We've already lost 542,000 so at our current pace we'll top 800,000 by the end of the year. I know, I know - if more people get vaccinated then that bodes well for the number of new cases and deaths continuing to diminish and here's hoping that's what happens. I guess a part of me thinks its prudent to wait until we see that actually occur before hanging up the 'Welcome! Open for Business!' sign.

The John Hopkins University of Medicine (not exactly known as a hotspot of "Fake News!") tracks the Covid outbreak for the currently most affected countries. Of the twenty nations considered 'most affected' 17 (including the U.S.) are trending in the wrong direction. For the U.S. data the only thing that makes it look like we've dramatically improved by comparison is the outrageously huge spike caused by holiday travel and socializing in November and December. Take out that anomaly and tell me if you think we've actually made any progress:

John Hopkins University
of Medicine

So, what to do? Prudence versus Pandemic weariness. Personal versus economic health? Caring about others versus your own self-interest? Choices too many to list.

The Denver Post had an article yesterday titled "14 Lessons for the Next Pandemic" asking scientists, public health experts and health advocates about mistakes, missed chances and oversights — and how to prepare for the next pandemic. It's a good, though sobering, look back at a year none of us wishes to repeat. One of the folks, Dr. Reed Tuckson, co-founder of the Black Coalition Against COVID19, summed up much of what I've wondered about in this and prior blogs:

"Many people had an awakening to the people who keep society going forward, and whom we take largely for granted.

But if you can discount the essential worker — the African American, the Latino, the Chinese immigrant who delivers your food — then think how easily you can discount any other human life.

If you are a person who thinks that you have a right not to wear a mask, that philosophy cascades: I couldn’t give a darn about the cashier in the supermarket or the train driver because I don’t care about anyone. I will go into the bar, and I will do what I will do.

This pandemic has shown us who we are, at a level of clarity that is shocking to most people.

It’s hard to imagine there are that many people in our country who really don’t care about others.

That is the scariest thing, it takes your breath away and you can diagnose everything else that is happening through that lens.

That you could tolerate 500,000 deaths in less than a year is incomprehensible to me, that we are a nation that is so callous."

And if that's not quite enough, zookeepers are now discovering that we - humans - are now giving the Covid virus to animals under our care. So far, confirmed coronavirus cases include gorillas, tigers and lions at zoos; as well as domestic cats and dogs. 

To quote Mr. Twain, "The more I get to know people, the more I love my dog." Like I said at the beginning: Ouch.

How are those muscles?

O.K. already. My apologies to the weather Gods. I'd burn my snow shovel as a sacrifice but this being March I don't think I'm quite done with it.

How many times did you have to shovel? If you're one of those with a snow blower how many times did you have to clear the clogged chute of that wet, heavy snow that acted more like building material - concrete comes to mind - than the heavenly light and fluffy powder that Colorado is famous for.

It being Tuesday here's hoping all those folks who got stranded in their cars in the wilds of E-470 and Pena Boulevard have all been rescued. And here's hoping that all those in line at the Subway sandwich shop at DIA finally got fed since it apparently was the only fine dining option available for stranded travelers at the height of the fourth largest storm in Denver history. Welcome to Colorado folks. And finally to all those in Northern Colorado who lost power (a.K.A. HEAT) during the storm, Welcome to Texas.

Me and mine spent our time huddling in front of the fire (a real wood-burning fire mind you, not one of those natural gas look-a-likes without the heat courtesy of Public Service). Even our Suburban Huskies joined us on the couch rather than partake of the normal Husky habit of curling up like a ball and getting buried under a nice insulating blanket of snow. Oh well, more's the merrier. Getting them off the couch to go out and help shovel snow was more problematic. Maybe they're a wee bit spoiled by overindulgent doggie parents.

But boy, how about when the flakes stopped falling and the sun came out? There's no bluer sky anywhere like in Colorado after a storm passes. And you can tell it's finally Spring because the temps rebounded, the snow has started melting, and a Jefferson County plow actually made an appearance on our street. I'm truly thankful, as are all of my neighbors, for your fine and most effective efforts to move all the snow we had just shoveled back into our driveways. But then it's our own fault as we really didn't know you were coming since we hadn't seen you since, like, last March.

Anyway, it really was beautiful after the storm so I've put together some of my favorite images  in the video below. So put down that shovel, curl up on the couch with your favorite pet, and enjoy. This being March and this being Colorado the odds are we'll get to experience the wonders of Snowmagedon again real soon...

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?