Ally was sick all last week. I got the cough, then nothing. Thought I had beat it. Was rather elated. But alas, yesterday I woke up,with a stuffy face, a faucet nose, body aches and glands the size of soft balls. Hello spring. If I can just get through this cold, I will give you a big fat welcome (it’s supposed to be 70 today). Gratitude goes to Isaac Mizrahi-designed tissue box, humidifier and Nyquil.
I’m with this kid. I mean, really.
I have a sort of funny skill. I am like 95% accurate at predicting what sex a baby will be. Sort of useless, but kind of fun.
This morning, I read the headline that JWoww (and wow, what if that was your name), was announcing the sex of her baby (because you know, none of us could sleep because we didn’t know). And I looked at her photos to see what I thought, and bingo, GIRL. I’m really good at it.
I have a cold and so does Ally and so does New England, so I will probably stay in today and do some work and troll bad magazines and guess who is having what kind of baby. Grateful for the chance to do that on this 8 degree day. Oh yeah, and I will pack an imaginary suitcase to the imaginary warm place I’m getting ready to move to.
I would just like to report that in the town of Brookline, Massachusetts at 6:30 am, it is 1 degree. ONE. As in the lonliest number ONE. One, as in the first digit you learn when you learn how to count. One, as in Soup for, Direction and Fund. ONE, PEOPLE. I feel like I was transported to Antarctica in my sleep. While I have grown up on the East Coast, where winters are cold and snowy, this is not the kind of cold that’s in any way typical. Oh no, THIS IS FREEZE YOUR BOOTY OFF cold, even if your booty is as, well, solid as Kim Kardashian’s.
My gratitude here this morning is that I am not outside, and have a semi-warm house to be in. Plus lots of blankets, and sweaters. I am praying for the homeless today. This is no joke. Also, grateful not to be living in the mid-west (for many reasons), but because they’re experiencing even colder temperatures than we are. There is apparently a polar vortex that is sending cold air down from the North Pole. Today’s temperature predictions in Fargo, N.D. are for 25 BELOW. Minus 31 in International Falls, MN. Ok, I am feeling warmer here with our little 1 degree.
My other gratitude, I am leaving for L.A. on Monday, where it is currently 53, but moving on into the mid-70’s by mid-day. Winter is getting less and less appealing to me with every passing second. But I could discuss my disdain for the cold for the next three weeks, so I’ll stop now. Stay warm and bundled up. This too shall pass (but not soon enough for me).
By now, you probably know, what with all the beach shots and the flower pics and the whining and complaining about winter, that I AM NOT A GIRL WHO LIKES THE COLD. Well, on our recent trip to Buffalo, we took an hour and drove up to the American side of Niagara Falls. (We didn’t have our passports, so we couldn’t go to the bigger, even more dramatic Canadian Falls.) I’m sorry, but there’s just no other polite way of describing one of the Seven Natural Wonders of the Modern World, other than to say HOLY. FUCKING. SHIT.
First of all, it is mammoth, like a moving Grand Canyon. Secondly, it is cold, like one of those nights when the temperature drops to -10, and your heat doesn’t work and you have no pajamas. Thirdly, everything is FROZEN SOLID like you’re in a life-sized fridge. The river is choppy, white water-ish ,because of the force of the Falls, or I should say, it would be choppy if it wasn’t FROZEN IN PLACE LIKE A STATUE. Literally this water has STOPPED COLD. It’s like a Batman villain showed up and waved his hand and said, ok, FREEZE. Also, the drop down to the river, is pre-tty big. And you’re staring at this rushing water, and the backdrop of white, and it’s a little disorienting, so you think maybe you might fall, like into the freezingness of this awful place, and you just want to go back to the car (Ok, maybe I’m just talking about me, here.) Anwyay, the power of this thing, was just mind blowing. We were all sort of shocked by its intensity. Even the unimpressible kids were impressed (It really takes something big to get a lifted eyebrow from a teenager these days.)
Even though I hate the cold, like it was evil itself, I was grateful to have seen the falls. I hadn’t been there since i was 8 and went with my family to Expo 67 in Montreal. I was terrified then, too. And I remember we went on The Maid of the Mist, which was the boat which goes under the falls. As young as I was, this just did not seem like an intelligent idea to me. Anyway, when you see something as big as NIagra Falls, it reminds you of how small you are. And how big the world is, and that you are just a little part of it. And sometimes that’s a really good thing to remember.
Making my way through this winter has been challenging. Actually making it through WINTER IN GENERAL has become challenging because as time goes by, I HATE THE WINTER LIKE I HATE WRINKLES, AND LIVER, AND ANN COULTER. I grew up sledding, and building snowmen and ice skating everyday after school, and weekends, too. I liked winter back then. It was, like everything, FUN. In high school, I fell madly in love with skiing. But at the end of college, I herniated a disc in my low back, and my dreams of being Suzy Chapstick disappeared. I went a few times post back diagnosis, and tried not to move while I skied, and finally gave it up entirely in my mid-twenties, after going on a Vermont Ski weekend, with a bunch of fabulous skiers. I looked fate in the eye, when I took the wrong chairlift, which dropped me on trail that was 18 colors beyond my skill level, and covered in a deadly, glistening layer of ICE. I tumbled down that alpine luge slope like a crumpled piece of paper in the wind, and the terror that filled me at the thought of hurting my back even more, caused me so much anxiety, I had a “crazy girl on the mountain” kind of moment. I actually screamed and cried like I had broken MY WHOLE BODY. I never set foot, or rather MY feet in a pair of ski boots again. And that was that, the last thing that had made winter fun for me was done. Anyway, sure, the snow is pretty for like approximately one day. Then I’m ready for spring. I hate the clothes, too — layers and layers of clothes to put on, just so you can bear leaving your bed.
You should see the coats I wear. They’re basically sleeping bags with holes for your feet. I am sure people are impressed with my winter weight loss, come summer, since I look about 50 pounds thinner when I’m not toting around the “down comforter” coat anymore. Also, I CANNOT walk around in the winter without my shoulders hunched up to my ears like Frankenstein. They just won’t go down. And you know, like, THAT’S VERY ATTRACTIVE. And then there is the sweating. I layer myself all up to go outside, but when I go back in, like to grocery shop, or holiday shop, I sweat like I am in a Viking oven baking at 500 degrees, and very much resemble someone having a major heart attack. Again, the attractiveness factor here cannot be ignored. So, I’m grateful to be counting the days (just 49 more) until spring (and what with my math skills, it could be here even sooner).