Western Morning, Southern Afternoon

While the East Coast got pounded by record-breaking blizzards, we were enjoying an absolutely blissful weekend here in Boulder. It was sunny and clear, and although the mercury topped out in the mid-50s, it felt much warmer than that when one was in the sun. It was a perfect day for a hike, so I packed Mischa into the car and joined some friends at a trailhead a mere eight minutes' drive from our house. The park is called Chataqua and it's criss-crossed with trails that lead up to the nearby Flatiron Mountains. Here is Mischa, posed and ready for hour hike.

Most of the pictures I took ended up looking more like this, so I was pleased with the shot above:

Although the day was warm, the trail was very, very icy, but fortunately everyone in our group had the good sense to bring spikes. This is a product I didn't know even existed for most of my life, but in Boulder it's indispensable. I actually own two different types, one like the picture to the left and the other with smaller spikes under the ball of my foot and springs to dig into the snow that run under my heel. They're great because they're light enough to carry easily if you don't need them, but they make it possible to walk up slick surfaces that would be nearly impossible otherwise. We cruised by lots of hikers who were slipping and sliding along the trails and turning back early. Perhaps that is why the area wasn't as crowded as it ought to have been, considering the wonderful weather. We had a great time.

Mischa, who had no spikes, did an excellent job anyway. Ed and I had taken her up Mt. Sanitas, another nearby trail, earlier in the week, so this wasn't her first rodeo. Sanitas involves lots of scrambling over small boulders, and we were pleased that Mischa, who had never done anything like that as far as we knew, had little trouble picking out and executing a path over the rocks. She seemed to have a great time, and she was cheerful on our Saturday hike, too (which had no boulders to climb over and so was easier going). She hardly pulled on her leash at all, which is an improvement, was serene instead of anxious when passers-by attempted to pet her, and even did a fair job of ignoring many dogs we passed. (We still have a lot of work to do on this front.) She ended up muddy, tired, and happy.

Having worked up an appetite on the trails, several of our friends and I made a bar in South Boulder our next stop because they were hosting a crawfish boil. They do this a few times a year, apparently, and I will most definitely be back for the next one. Crawfish came in one-pound baskets or three-pound buckets, accompanied by corn on the cob (a little overdone) and boiled potatoes. I dispatched my own basket and part of a friend's, then helped Ed with a three-pound bucket. They were delicious and fun to eat. The only place I'd ever eaten crawfish before was a New Orleans-themed restaurant in Manhattan, so I have yet to rack up an "authentic" experience, but I'm not complaining.

Our bucket

I will be on the road quite a bit for the next few weeks, but I couldn't have asked for a higher note to go out on.

The Furminator

As far as huskies go, Mischa doesn't shed all that much. But she's still a long haired dog, and between her and the cats we have several anti-fur weapons in our arsenal. There are sticky rollers all over the house, and I even have one in my car. But one very important tool is this magic brush: the Furminator. 

The advertisements say that one brushing session each week can reduce shedding up to 90%. I can't attest to that; I can say, however, that the fur in this pile will not end up all over our house. 

Frosty, Misty Run

Ed's training schedule called for an easy 40-minute run first thing this morning (to be followed by a 3-hour bike ride, lest you get the wrong impression about the intensity of his regimen), and Mischa and I opted to keep him company. Mischa does best when running with a "pack" - one-on-one, she pulls on the leash a lot, but when I take her with a group she trots along at the pace set by everyone else. This was our first attempt at running with her as a duo, and to our relief she did very well and hardly pulled at all. Our mini-pack was apparently just big enough.

This was good, because there is snow and some ice on the roads and sidewalks, and a lunging dog would certainly have toppled whichever of us happened to be holding the leash. We ran carefully. The morning was a lovely one despite the cold (something like 16 degrees). Mischa was in heaven; as a husky, she thrives in cold weather and loves nothing more than to dash back and forth in the snow and pounce on snowbanks. The air up here tends to be quite dry, but we had an unusual phenomenon today: mist. As we ran, the droplets collected on just about every surface and froze. Ed and I both ended up with frosted eyelashes, and the few small hairs that escaped his hat sported winter coats, too. Bits of fuzz on my vest showed up white. Mischa became increasingly icy as we ran, beginning with her face and working back to her ears and ruff.

We knew we had to get a picture of this rare happening, and since I was less icy (and therefore less interesting) than Ed, I dashed inside when we got home--melting my eyelashes in an instant--to grab a camera.

Look closely at Ed and you can see his white eyelashes and a few frosted hairs under the brim of his hat. It's not nearly as hard to see Mischa's frostiness.