Travel & Lifestyle Freelance Writer | Market Research Consultant
I’m not nearly as picky about eating healthy as I used to be.
But even I draw the line when the barista mixes up half and half cream with skim milk.
Perhaps it wouldn’t be such a big deal if my large coffee wasn’t made up of roughly 50 percent milk, but since it is, I had to say something.
I’ve never sucked directly from an udder, but I’m guessing that’s pretty much what my beverage would have tasted like.
So I love Boulder as much as the next granola-eating, environment-saving, fleece-wearing, outdoor-loving individual, but even I can admit that the place has a flaw.
Each time the wind blows hard and cold from the northeast, it leaves a potent harbinger in its wake: the noxious stench of cow poop.
The thing is, this isn’t really Boulder’s problem … it’s Greeley’s.
Their industry de bovine wafts southward and offends our innocent nostrils. How is that fair?