Warm in winter, and I don’t mind.

While I have a serious history on this very blog of bitching about warm winters, this year, I am glad for it.  This is for several reasons, all stupid (?):

1) Our charming and old apartment is as drafty as a mother-of-26′s baby canal.  (How dirty!  I have a sinus headache and Charlotte broke my neti pot.  It happens.)

2) Our neighbor is so disgustingly stinky that we need to prop the outside door open.  Warmer weather means that the building gets less cold (not that it’s warm anyway) and that other folks are less likely to close it.

3) I am feeling my age and am achy from lack of good nutrition, lack of exercise and lack of not being a fatass.

I think we’re moving next week?

It’s hot in Baltimore right now. If you’re on the East Coast at all, I don’t have to tell you. It’s miserable. Our new apartment has central air. The new apartment we’re supposed to be moving into next week. Here? Well, sheeeet. I can’t hear anything but fans!

And thank God/Jesus/Allah/The Donale for peppermint soap. Oh, peppermint soap. Dude, get some. Get some, and tell them I sent you. Tell them I said HI.

But we haven’t packed a thing. Boxes are on their way. I’m a pretty stellar packer, though. Maybe I’m wired to be nomadic? I have a feeling our distaste for home ownership might be masking a growing desire to move around some more, maybe just travel a bit. Maybe just, I don’t know, change things up?

And we need to measure rooms and furniture and the massive volume of books that we own, go to Ikea (though that part’s fun, and Charlotte likes the colors and the toys she gets when we go there), actually think about what’s going where.

And we need to not melt before then.

This is all cause for stress, but I don’t feel particularly stressed about it. Rather, I’m looking forward to receiving the wood-handled umbrellas we ordered yesterday, in time for a rainy weekend. I spent like two hours researching umbrellas. (I shit you not.) I couldn’t get the color I wanted, and I’m hoping that “khaki” is not code for “off-white.”

Also, all this sitting around sans shirt has me wishing I could lose weight. That I would, rather. That I would.

Would if I could, and all that.

For a better Monday.


It’s raining.  One of my least favorite people at work is being my least favorite person ever today, on my last day.  Storms are coming, in fact, also.  And I don’t feel very well.  But, you know.  Look at Charlotte, right?  Yeah?  Life ain’t bad.  I tell ya.

Today is the day of very cold legs.

It was raining this morning.  And windy.  A cold front got here today.  I had to go to a 10am meeting and walk about 500 feet outside.  The rain came up — fuck sideways – and the puddles appeared everywhere.  The end of the fucking world if you’re a napkin or a witch.  Water everywhere.

I got to my meeting and had to run to the bathroom to sop up some of the water from my pants with paper towels because I was leaving puddles everywhere.  I had to stop to make the meeting; because I didn’t want my boss’ boss to come in and see; and because I was killing trees like there was no tomorrow.

Post meeting, I wanted my pants to dry on my person because, you know, sitting around the office in your underwear is a little weird.  But it didn’t work, and I got really cold (plus the modem in my office climate control unit is busted, but that’s another story).  So I took off my pants for them to dry on the room-temperate air coming out of my “heater” unit.

Currently, I am sitting in my underwear and undershirt and socks freezing, with my door locked and a Post-It that says, “I’m here — Pants are drying.”  It should probably say, “If you come in here, don’t make fun of my blue underwear.”  Or, maybe funnier, “Come in and get an eyeful of –!”

Of course the sky is clear now, with low and lovely clouds.

But it’s also getting very cold, and I get to have coffee with a good buddy tonight outside, at our adopted clubhouse — the trolley stop on University Parkway.

End November/begin December.

Yesterday, as Charlotte and I met Mommy when her bus got home, the day smelled like the end of November, namely, dead leaves, an alarmingly warm breeze and the end of something.

Today, for December, we have sideways rain and a tornado watch.

Fall’s really crept up.


Charlotte had to wear this hoodie and pants outfit with the hat that Mommy made her last weekend at Ocean City (note the beachy couch!). And that’s her first tie-dye, from her Grandpa. With the hot summer we had, we were ready in this apartment for another fall like 2007, when we sweated through 90-degree temps in Washington on October 4th for our anniversary. I assumed September would be hot, and now it’s gone. Bizarre.  I was so prepared for a long summer that our AC units are still in.  The living room is drafty tonight.

But now it’s October, which is supposed to be my favorite month. The windows are closed, and I wore socks last for movie time and a very late dinner at about 10pm, because babies make you busy.  I put out the fall decorations while Charlotte napped and Mommy had to work today, a Sunday.  Pumpkin time, and all that.  Mommy was super pissed that she had to work.  I didn’t realize how long window stickies take to put up by yourself.

In other shitty news, a family friend passed away the other day, suddenly.  She was about my parents’ age.  Of course this has me thinking, in a bad way.  And Charlotte gets to attend her first funeral, in the same local Catholic church where I was an altar boy for around 100 of them (no foolin).  This lady was very freakin cool, too.  But we ran into her when Charlotte was only a few weeks old.  So they got to meet, and I know that I gave her a hug and was glad to see her when last we met.

Still, this is sad.

Lovely to not be dangerously hot outside.

Which meant, today, that Charlotte and I could have breakfast with Grandma and Aunt Sheree and that we get to take a walk later to see Aunt Frannie (Frances, same as Charlotte’s middle name) and Aunt Patti.  We we get to see Uncle Joey later, too, and Uncle Tom and Aunt Heather and Auntie Wu and Grandpa this weekend.

I’ve never liked hot weather.  But 100+ degree heat indices (and even temperatures!) are dangerous for a baby and have kept us indoors a hell of a lot this summer.  It’s even very hot when we do to the farmers market on Saturday mornings very early.

There’s escape this weekend in the form of temperatures in the mid-upper 8os, less humidity and, well, the sheer desire to go the hell outside!

Says WeatherDotCom:

“Dangerous heat index. Outdoor exposure should be limited.”

This is the story of Baltimore’s summer this year.  Everyone who called this year’s snow “piles of global warming” with snark and sheeplike repetition: up yours.

My hands are cracking a lot this winter.


I’ll spare you the photos, not that I took any. It could be washing more dishes than usual or not wearing gloves. I generally don’t wear gloves unless I’m cycling, and I’ve been outside far more on foot than on pedals this winter. It could also be that I keep forgetting to drink water. Or the breakdown of my bass-guitar calluses, since I have not been playing my bass. Or a combination. Or I’m getting old.

Oh, and in case you’re wondering. Yes. This Lemon Butter Cuticle Cream does, in fact, taste like lemons, too. I ate some.

COLD!

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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.

Nothing looks like this, not lately.

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This week: grey, rain, rain, rain, grey. With recently broken bones and my still-smashed right hand, I’m tempted to sound like one of those people who acts like crappy weather was invented just for suffering and just for their suffering at that.  It doesn’t feel good.

However, in search of better times and making the best of what’s left of autumn, Mrs. P. and I will venture to our very favorite bookstore and perhaps have dinner somewhere in Charles Village, Hampden or Roland Park.  I will have a waterproof messenger bag, so treasures will make it home unscathed.  At least it’s going to be in the upper 50s/lower 60s.  I hate when it rains just shy of the freezing point.  Unless I’m cycling.  I do get a kick out of that.

Curiously, Normal’s is on 31st Street, where I blew a spoke last Sunday and had to miss the ride I’d spent so much time helping to plan.  Much better tidings today, I think.

My bike is out of commission currently.  Yes, breaking a rear spoke on the drive side can make your wheel no longer turn without hitting the frame.  No, this does not, as has been suggested, make me a wimp or perfectionist.  It’s a matter of my understanding bike wheels, at least a little bit.  Plus, there’s the empirical smack-your-ass part where my wheel literally does not turn.  The shop will take care of it; it’s under warranty.  It’s a good excuse to visit my favorite bike shop.

I need to get some new books and spend quality time with the Mrs. and our little belly/Baby.  As if it’s not obvious, I’m growing increasingly less patient with people’s bullshit.  A nice walk usually helps a lot.

Grey June days.

….always remind me of summer 2002, when I lived  in Massachusetts.  June is lovely there, especially early on.  I remember frequently wearing a sweater there in June.  It’s a nice, relaxing atmosphere today, before Baltimore’s heat and humidity set in.  I’ve been enjoying our window fans at night.  I’m helping with a mural today, so I get to be outside, too.

Spring means less need for sleeping?

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I am finding that I can’t sleep lately. Friday and Saturday, I had to wake up earlier than usual and get going, and I was out late Friday night, too. I tried to sleep late Sunday morning, but my body resisted. I didn’t feel very tired, though, and had even more trouble getting to sleep on Sunday night. Felt ready to wake up and battle traffic and work yesterday (Monday) on very little sleep. I had more trouble getting to sleep last night, but that could have been the family emergency (more later) that had me cycling like mad against a headwind yesterday afternoon. Maybe, because today I’m pooped. I hope it passes. The idea that I need less sleep/rest with the warming weather is very appealing to someone who likes to stay up reading at night and cycling early in the morning.

Stab winter for St. Patty.

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I am very ready for winter to be over.  I generally like it.  There are past instances on this blog where I was angry at a lack of winter.  I like wearing sweaters and flannel and cuddling up with the Mrs at night to watch movies, read and sleep.  Cycling when water freezes to your face is exhilarating, if for no other reason, for the looks of amazement you get from other people.  Longjohns are their own unique experience when you have them on under your work pants with nothing under them.
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Maybe it’s barreling downhill for four miles every morning and getting watery eyes from the wind or my being tired of not being able to wear sandals sans socks.  Or of coming home from community meetings at seven or eight in the dark.  Maybe I’m tired of the bleak landscape on my way to work through the Jones Falls Valley and out of my window on University Parkway.  But I’m really ready for spring now.

I haven’t actually gotten tired of winter since 2003, when I lived in Boston and didn’t blog yet.  It was a particularly bad winter, full of blizzards and April snow.  St. Patty’s day that year was 70 degree weather, with students at Boston College sitting around talking in tanktops next to mountains of snow still piled up.  I remember wearing flip-flops and crunching on snow that April and wearing a jacket in May and June a few times.
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There was snow on the ground two years ago for St. Patty’s Day, too, after a January that was so warm that plants were budding the week after New Year’s Day.  I guess it could be worse.  I get to work from home this morning for afternoon meetings and can probably get away with sandals later, if I’m willing to have cold feet, which I am.

I have a fridge full of Irish stout, cabbage, homemade soda bread from the Mrs and Irish music.  What, you haven’t heard the new U2 album yet?  It’s excellent.

Pocketful of dimes.

Due to the suspicion that my sinus infection is coming back, being tired and sore and generally feeling like crap, I took the bus to work this morning. It was definitely not the incoming rain. I like riding to work in the rain. I feel as if I should feel like a sell-out for wussing out. But I don’t exactly answer to anyone else about how I get to work. And wussing out of cycling for the first time in over a month for me means taking the bus, not driving some gas-guzzling land yacht or lounging on the backs of servants or something. I have to admit that I have been dying to take some kind of transit since the transit summit the other night. But now my pocketful of dimes is half empty.

Universal weather balancing.

While I refuse to wear special cycling clothes, I do have to watch the weather when I have a four-mile-outside trip to work.  Yesterday, I busted my ass to get to work before the snow and rain started because I didn’t feel like bringing extra clothes with me.  I just made it.  I literally got into my office, turned on my computer, turned around to look out the window and saw snow.  Today, I got in just before the sun came out and starting drying shit off.  Same thing, but sun when I looked out the window after a wet ride to work.  What a balanced Universe!

OMG, mega cold commute.

The windchill was -2 this morning when I left.  Not counting the chill of riding downhill four miles to work.  Not as cold as some parts of the country.  But very very very cold for Maryland, where our summers are beastly.  It was awesome.  Read more.