Everywhere in Baltimore, we hear the sarcastic phrase, “Piles of Global Warming.” I just thought I’d clog up the internetz with the correct adage:
Piles of Climate Change.
Snow doesn’t disprove Global Warming. It proves (or at least works toward it — I realize that it does not constitute a real proof) Climate Change. Sorta.
The refusal to acknowledge the “new” popular terminology for how we’re fucking up the planet does go a long way toward proving that denials of Climate Change have nothing to do with science and a lot to do with habit, politics and curmudeonliness — maybe even frustration that this state and city lean to the left just a little, sometimes. But I think I’m overstepping myself there. Aside from spending a lot of money and our high taxes, you’d think we didn’t live in a blue state sometimes though.
We’ve been kinda shut-ins for a month now, from Mama’s bedrest. I mean, we were never exactly socialites or anything, but we haven’t gone to dinner or even out for coffee or a walk in a very long time. That’s one thing. But a lot of my friends have new kids, kids on the way, and we’ve all been blocked in with this freakin snow. No one’s been able to go out. I miss my pals. I can’t wait for spring and this crap to melt away.
I am not venturing out on my bike or on foot, and my bus line’s not running, either. Not that I’m upset to work from home, on my tiny laptop/netbook.
While the snow is falling like crazy, and my belly is full.
Wow, Baltimore is cold. Given my complaints about the lack of winter in Southern Illinois, I don’t mean to complain now. I like when it’s cold in the winter. Just saying. It’s cold. I’m wearing a scarf in my office, on my lunch break, relaxing with my mp3 player and the internet. My feet are cold. Though, I am wearing socks and sandals.
Shoveling snow two weeks ago when we got the mini blizzard, I was wearing shoes. Wet shoes. My broken toe was killing me. I don’t know if it was the cold, the wet or the shoes. But I do know it feels better in socks and sandals. Too bad everyone stares at me. One bus driver gave me such a look just before the holidays that I was not completely sure he was going to let me on the bus.
My recent injuries hurt a good bit this winter. The non-broken right hand is stiff and painful in the morning. The toe doesn’t like the cold, like the one I shattered pinky toe from 2003. My broken wrist predicts rain, and snow makes it hurt like no one’s business. I was talking about my two metal teeth with my co-worker yesterday, and he said I’m like a roadmap. I think that’s funny. I do need to invent better stories to go along with my defects. My broken teeth? No accident! I defended someone’s honor in a bar fight and got bumbled by three bikers! Etc. Maybe for Baby, when he/she asks why Daddy has metal in his mouth and foot and why his wrist makes noises.
It wasn’t long before everything was either dirty or melting.
Okay, so it’s the third snow day. And I’m technically on vacation now. So. It’s not really a snow day at all. But still. Waking up a little late to the sound of mounds of snow sliding off of my building’s big slate roof and listening to Tori Amos’ Midwinter Graces while sipping a peppermint mocha, well, that’s winter heaven.
I do need to take a walk later to pick up some stuff and food and possibly for some last-minute shopping.
But then more PJs and soup and coffee/tea/cocoa and movies and books.
Hell, when it comes to relaxing and cozy comfort, I’m king.
