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.

Feels like winter/Xmas in Baltimore – Finally.

After I wore sandals and no jacket to IKEA Tuesday, I was tucked into a puffy vest and scarf last night, walking in the dark with a travel mug of very good coffee and holiday tunes on my little mp3 player.   It’s seldom that I walk anywhere alone anymore.  And, while I miss Charlotte when I do, it’s something I also savor.  The last time was nearly a month ago, when I sped my way on a 3 mile stroll to retrieve a lost Elmo doll.

This morning, Charlotte is helping Mommy fold laundry, which means picking things from the basket, plopping them onto Mommy’s lap and laughing.

Daddy takes a second — a distant second — when Mommy’s home from work and largely on weekends.  She follows Mommy everywhere and wants story after story.  Last night, she told Mommy which three stories she wanted: “Beeah, Henwy and Pond.”  (Long story.)  I don’t mind being second to Mommy.  She did, you know, carry her around for nine months and all that.  She’s never more excited than when Mommy’s home from work.  I can even get her into a mood that would require three cups of coffee from me if I tell her, when she gets up from her nap, that, “Mommy’s home soon!”

Today, we are taking Charlotte to Midtown for some holiday fun.  We both used to work there, and it’s weird not to spend time there anymore, the coffee capital of this fair city.

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.

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.

I miss my friends.


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.

January, like a lion.


What a strange month, and it’s only half over! The Ravens were doing well, and now they are finished until next year. I walked home from watching the game last night, without a fear in the world. I don’t think anyone in town was in the mood to mug or “bankkk” anyone, not last night. I did almost get run over by a stampede of drunk girls, seriously. I thought I was getting a group hug there for a minute.

My dissertation defense was uncertain, and now it’s scheduled. February 16, 3:30 pm. Carbondale.

The weather hasn’t been helping feel steady. It’s been strangely cold for Maryland. It warmed up a little lately, but today it’s cold and raining. Yesterday, I wore sandals sans socks and two short-sleeved Ravens shirts under my puffy vest. Today, I’m in flannel and PJs and looking forward to watching movies with Mama (which Mama picked) and having a quiet pasta dinner. I’m not leaving the building today.

A busy work week ahead, with a stressful OB visit on Wednesday and a work event Saturday to boot. I better make sure I have a good supply of coffee beans and that my Thermos is clean.

Thursday is Mama’s birthday, though, and that’s fun. I like to spoil Mama, especially with Baby being so big that she has trouble moving around and has, in fact, started to wobble a bit.

Tomorrow, Baby shopping, with Grandma.

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.

Snow day!

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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.

Been walking so much the bus looks fast to me.

I’ve blogged a lot about walking.  I know.  It’s something that I don’t do enough (because I am lazy and impatient) but something I enjoy endlessly.

Wednesday, I was at a community meeting at St. Paul Street and North Avenue in Central Baltimore.  It was supposed to last until 7:30 or 8:00, but it was over at 7:04 for pizza and chatting.  I’d already done my “networking” before the meeting started, so I bolted to catch my 7:53 bus at the train station.  On my way from my chair to the door, I thought, “Why should I bullshit in my office until my bus?  I can just walk!”  So when I left the building, I made a left and headed for home.

Sure, folks will chide you for walking through “that area” at “that time of night.”  Dude, 7:00pm dark is not the same as 2:00am dark — and I don’t walk around anywhere at that time (except once in Carbondale when we walked from the train station to home in the dead middle of the night after a trip to Memphis, with a tiny flashlight –  but that’s another story).  I didn’t see anyone sketchy and in fact was the sketchy person to lady who halted her exit from her car until after I passed her around 24th Street.  And for two young ladies carrying their groceries home above 25th Street.

Instead of driving or sitting on an empty bus or pedaling uphill, I got to peak into the big, old, stately houses on St. Paul Street (think 3-story rowhomes with big basements), at folks’ bookshelves and holiday decorations.  I greeted a dozen dog-walkers.  I caught the exam-time buzz as I cut through JHU to University Parkway.  I scared a guy on the section of University Parkway there the streetlights are out and where it is completely pitch black.  And, at the top of the hill, I saw the warm glow of the LED star lights in our windows, on the corner of the building, where warmth, my wife and a pasta dinner awaited.  In all, I walked 3 miles in 45 minutes.  Not that far, but fast, and I was tired.  That distance is small for a hike, but pretty long in a smallish city like Baltimore.

It was an exceptional night.  I read before bed and slept like a baby.

We planned some similar fun walking for Saturday, which is itself worthy of a post.

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.

I watched 4 movies this weekend.

I used to watch a solid 2 films every weekend, when I lived in a boring town in Illinois.  Don’t watch them so regularly these days.  It was good to lounge this weekend, and Mrs. P was sick.  My freakin legs hurt by last night, though, from not moving.  Felt good to cycle in the snow this morning, before it died out.  I’m looking forward to cycling in the snow tomorrow, though I have to work until 9 pm, so it might not be the best idea.

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.

Thanking the Hanes gods for longjohns.

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I got drenched earlier this week riding my bike to work in all that rain. I mean like hanging my clothes to dry drenched. It was awesome.  My new fenders kept most of the slosh and slush and sludge off of me and off of my drivetrain.

But I was still looking forward to the sunny, clear and cold weather of yesterday and today. I had on very warm winter cycling gloves, a puffy vest, scarf, flannel or sweater and LONGJOHNS. Yes, longjohns. Rather than getting home with pink and chapped and stingy legs, I get home toasty and warm and happy and full of fuzzies because they are new.  And my hips smell like ink from the dye.

Of course I also sit in my office with very warm legs, which is very strange.  Especially if you’re a hairy man like me.  And you know you’re not supposed to wear anything under longjohns, right?  When your underwear touches your socks, it feels like you’re (to quote Ned Flanders) “wearin nothin at all!”  I’m not exactly into that, uh, ahem, lack of support.  It’s very odd.

Totally worth it to be able to cycle through a winter which is certainly colder than some places, but not quite New England or Upper Midwest either.

Rider status indicates that there are still in fact some cyclists in Baltimore who are, uh, brave/crazy enough to ride through the winter.  I’m not alone, and I don’t want to be.  Even when it’s raining and 35 degrees, there were folks out.

Possible fun joint ride Sunday.  If you’re in Baltimore, comment here and come!

You grew your beard in a little.

Saw someone who works where I work, who I hadn’t seen in a while, this morning at the coffee place.  He’s very nice and has a business beard (i.e., very very well-trimmed beard when he could totally grow more if he wanted to).  He said, “You grew your beard in a little.”  Wistfully.  And intentionally understated.  My beard makes ladies swoon these days.  You don’t  believe me?

Cold early this year?


Geez, it got cold quickly! I just started wearing shoes (not sandals) last week. Fall came so early this year that I feel like I missed it. But I’m glad to have some winter. It started early in the Dale three years ago, but then the winter was warm and depressing afterward. Maybe we’ll get some nice winter wonderland this time around in Charm City? I’d better get some better fenders for my bike!  My storm windows are closed at home, and I actually wore my scarf at lunch yesterday at a nice cafe’.