snotcicles

Today's soundtrack:
"Narcissist" by Sage Francis
"In the Bleak Midwinter" as sung by Harry Christophers & The Sixteen

It is cold. Bitterly cold. Miguel has a new method of measuring just how cold it is. If you can walk to the end of the block and you just begin to feel the cold in your jeans, it's not too bad. If you only get into the alley before the cold sets in, it's damned cold. And if you only get outside the door, it's just insane and you stay home.

But we are hardy folk so we trudged to school, our long underwear mocking our attempts to remain warm for 15 minutes. By the time we got to the university, Miguel had sprouted snotcicles - that is, icicles in his mustache, right beneath his nostrils - and was doing a pretty good impression of Dr. Zhivago (you remember the scene, when he's left the partisans and is trying to get back to Lara).

Just as we got to Place Riel, a kid from the Residence came bounding out the door in a flimsy t-shirt and jeans, and sauntered into Place Riel. Miguel and I could only look at each other in utter disbelief.

In my mad effort to stay warm, I'm knitting up a baby blanket for some friends Miguel will see in his round-the-world trip. I'm using leftover black yarn, which I figure is appropriate for a Danish baby. Get it? It's a Blanket for Baby Hamlet!

Alright, it's possible that I'm the only one that finds this completely entertaining. The rest of you are just a bunch of savages.