Welcome to the city of conditional love. You know about Denver's 300 days of sunshine a year, right? But nobody ever talks about the other 65 days, which are consumed by blizzards, tornadoes, wildfires, drought and calamity. The temperature here is mild, except when it isn't. Average precipitation is moderate, all of it coming in a single dump of snow that paralyzes the city for several weeks. We are the City of Trees, but in the post-blizzard weeks we become the City of Busted Trees (also the City of 10,000 Lakes). In the summer we bake in the cruel sun, except when we're pelted by guinea pig-sized hail. Our airport is terrific, except when it sucks. And did we mention the ever-evolving convention center, the wonderful freeway improvements known fondly as "T-Rex," and our very own Colorado Rockies? No, no, the pleasure is all ours. Well, mostly.