It is warm, but not unseasonably so, and bright, although not cloudless, here in Denver on this midwinter's day. I suspect that the ground hog will see his shadow and scuttle right back in today.
My annual encounter with football yesterday, Superbowl 43, was more remarkable than most. The kid's were rooting for Arizona and disappointed, but once triumph became less certain, they hedged their bets by starting rousing cheers for the "Arizona Steelers" and "Pittsburgh Cardinals." Suitable cheers for a game that went down to the wire, with vertiginous twists and turns. This was one of those rare years where the game itself completely outshines the associated glitter. The commercials were heavy on NBC programming (there must have been half a dozen distinct ads for the NBC series Heroes), and light on products. Hometown hero John Elway, managed to insinuate himself in both the opening ceremonies and the ads. "The Boss" like so many of his musical peers, was decidedly past his prime in his halftime show performance, which fit squarely in the 401(k) tour genre. But, nobody got naked, so I'm sure the FCC will be pleased.
I finished some of my light reading over the weekend.
One, Duainfey, by Sharon Lee and Steve Miller, was a truly dreadful mix of Regency romance, and Laurell K. Hamilton's sexualized fairy fantasy, topped off with heap poorly written and unexpected rape scenes, and long boring episodes. It also suffered from being an arbitrarily cut off first half of single book sold in two volumes. Why did anyone agree to publish it? Apparently, the couple has written good fantasy novels before, but this effort has not kept up with their standards. Fortunately, this was a library new release item, so I didn't waste any money on it.
The other, Boy Meets Girl, by Meg Cabot (best known for her Young Adult oriented Princess Diaries books, which my daughter loves), which I read via an e-book download from the Denver Public Library, was a delightful chick lit novel that provided a light counterbalance to some of my other reading. It was all the better, personally, for echoing the life of some of my extended family member's lives while they lived in New York City. Notably, almost the entire story (released in 2004) is told via e-mails, instant messaging, scribbled notes, newspaper clippings, event programs, journal entries, recorded transcripts, security office reports and other scraps of written word with which we document our lives, which kept the story fresh and immediate.
Finally, almost miraculously, the Rocky Mountain News appeared on my front step again this morning. It has outlived its death warrant, but appears to be a dead man walking nonetheless.