It's been cold here in Denver. Really cold. I mean nasty, sub-zero, this is why we left the Midwest cold. The kind of cold that everyone who doesn't live here thinks we have all the time, along with constant snow.
The weather here is normally great. Rarely these extremes, and usually nothing to worry about. But part of my opinion on the weather might be softened a bit by the existence of WeatherBabe.
I have a long held theory that every television market in the country has one station in the region that has a weathercaster who is rather easy on the eyes. Someone I refer to as a WeatherBabe.
Here in Denver it's the NBC affiliate. But it should be noted that along with the good looks she also happens to be incredibly intelligent and really knows her weather stuff. She also recently got married, much to the dismay of single men in Denver as well as those of us with a pulse. This is a minor obsession that my lovely bride has learned to live with...and it helps that the same NBC affiliate also has WeatherHunk on the weekends. It gives us a nice little compromise--something for both of us, like seeing a movie with Nicole Kidman and Sean Connery. Or Nicole Kidman and Harrison Ford. Or Nicole Kidman and...well, you get the idea.
So we're in this cold snap, and I'm watching WeatherBabe describe how cold it is, and the ever present news scroll at the bottom of the screen reads "If you must go outside, dress warmly and in layers."
What results is this unreal Oedipal moment of "So who is writing these scrolls now, our mothers?"
Which, when I start to think about it, might actually make sense. Think about it.
"Thousands starve in African famine. Eat your peas."
"American Medical Association report: your face really will stick that way."
"Man jumps from cliff, survives. Claims everyone else was doing it."
"United Airlines flight from Los Angeles to New York diverted due to unruly passenger. Flight crew threatens to turn this plane right around and head back home."
Maybe that's what we need in these days of threat levels, economic instability, and Vice Presidents exercising the right to bear arms. A good old-fashioned dose of mom. I wonder if we can get milk and cookies with that.