:: Friday, January 10, 2003 ::

If you have a beard, you'll be able to relate when I say how nice it is to walk into a downtown building with a face full of icicles. You are warm as can be, but your appearance says rugged, conquerer of snow and ice. It is the ultimate winter fashion accessory, and functional. Daily, I wait for elevators with crowds of shivering, ill-equipped people. I pity the owners of stylish, non-functional winter gear. I scorn fashionable winter hats that leave the ears exposed. I laugh mockingly when someone wearing shiny leather shoes and silky little socks steps off the curb into a calf-deep puddle of black slush. But a beard? For those that can grow them, beards can not be beat. They are warm, attractive, require minimal maintenance, and inspire lust in members of the opposite sex.

And now for a public service announcement:

Hey Chicago, it is snowing tonight, drive safely! Please don't hit anyone with your car.
:: Ira 3:28 PM [+] :: [comment/respond]
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I've heard there's a sort of superstition about writing the date for the first time of the New Year. I expect endorsing checks for large sums of money means good luck, whereas waivers for STD treatment and written warnings from your supervisor that "could result in termination" means bad. Then again, what do I know?

The highlights of my Xmas break were as follows:

Outdoor treks - I went on three of these. The first was a walk with my mom while visiting the family in NW Wisconsin. It was more accurately a hike than a walk, as she maintained a pace of 4 miles per hour and we traversed a 100 ft elevation difference. It may have been more than that, but I wasn't paying to close attention to my GPS device. You may recall that back in October I dumpster dove a GPS thing but never got it to work. Over the vacation I took advantage of my isolated rural location and tested the thing out. The landscape around my parents’ house is beautiful in the winter, stark and glistening with frost. I missed out on countless miles while successfully twiddling satellite coordinates on a tiny green LCD screen. I am a chump.

The second trek was a solo venture where I rode my Dad's bike, a decent Raleigh MTB, across a small chunk of Dunn County around the area of Connorsville. The traffic situation is the complete opposite of Chicago. In the city there is a sea of cars doing around 20 mph in cramped, intense space. In the country, you can ride for miles without seeing a single automobile. Then when you think you are safe, a dull roar will come from the distance, slowly growing louder. Before you know it, a 3/4 ton Extended Cab Dodge Ram with dualies (the set-up where it looks like they put too many tires on the back axles) comes flying out of nowhere at 90 mph and you have to grit your teeth and hope that the driver doesn't have half a sixer of Busch Lite in the passenger seat. After 4 miles I pulled off the paved road ("blue highways," they called these in the old country songs) and climbed some steep dirt roads that probably started out as logging paths. The sun was absolutely brilliant and the cold air ripped through my lungs like a steel blade. This air was so cold that at the worst point I thought I might throw up. Polution and bus exhaust have nothing on it. I circled down off the hills and into Connorsville, a collection of old houses, trailers, agriculturally oriented businesses, and rusting truck bodies, noting how much larger it seemed when I was 7 and on my way to the farmers co-op in the back of my parents station wagon. I covered a conservative 6 miles back to my folks place, reminded all the way how challenging hills are on the respiratory system. The GPS device, tied on my messenger bag with an old piece of twine, traced my path as a tidy figure 8.

The last trip I made was near my girlfriend's parents' house in Michigan. This one was at night and sans-GPS system, which was taking some R&R back at my place in Chicago. After 4 days indoors I developed intense cabin fever and even though were in a semi-rural pseudo-suburb (nicer than it sounds) I decided I had to explore my surroundings. I left after dark, jumped over a deep ditch that may have had water in the bottom, and found myself on a wooded trail. There was sparse enough tree cover to let in moonlight. Some of this may have been light pollution from Flint, but I was in a romantic, adventurous mood, so for me it was moonlight. Looking back I noticed my footprints in the fresh fallen snow. This made me quite happy, both for it's beauty and because I could diverge from the path to tromp through tall weeds and follow a stream that I found. I made it my goal to walk away from any house light that I could see, and after crossing a couple of wooden footbridges and a few more walking paths, I came upon an open farm field where no buildings could be seen. The only other set of tracks besides mine belonged to a dog. There was no one to be seen, but I wished I had a dog out there to play in the snow with.

Ok, I am tired of typing you will have to wait for the other highlights.

P.S. About the luck thing: I am still broke, don't have any STDs, and remain at my crappy job. My fate for 2003 remains undecided.
:: Ira 8:58 PM [+] :: [comment/respond]
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