The dog days of Winter in Colorado are getting to me. Last week, we saw temperatures in the 70s, not a cloud in the sky, and ideal breezes for kite flying in the park, or even getting away with a pair of topsiders and no socks. This week? What was it, 3 degrees this morning with snow on the ground? And it’s supposed to get colder? Yep. Not that I haven’t grown accustomed to these dramatic changes seeing as how it’s what the Mile High City is best known for, aside from the smart trade of Cutler for Orton. Anyway, last snow, I vowed to finally get some new boots as the salt used to melt the ice on my front walk stained my old ones. And wouldn’t you know it? I plum forgot to do so, opting to purchase some things for the condo and Christmas presents for the family.
Now I am at the weird flux of “Do I buy myself a pair or do I ask for a pair of Wolverine Darbys for Christmas?” Biting the bullet before the next storm is probably in my best interest, though, the next storm is slated to be after Christmas, anyway. Screw it. I am going to head to Hill Brothers this weekend and see what they have. It’s one of those places along Broadway that one would never assume to go into as it is rather tattered and, well, scary looking. But when it comes to a good pair of rugged boots, the more tattered and frightening the better. Maybe I will make friends with a dude named Chet, or Ralph, or, um, Sam. Heh, Sam Hill. Get it?