Notes on Winter

It makes sense that Boston's cold tap water would be very cold in the winter, but man does it get cold! I mean, numbing cold. It hurts. So then I try to only turn on the hot water, which usually works for hand washing and other quick steps, but when washing dishes, it can get scalding. So I find myself alternating: rinse these dishes with hot water, turn the water off to soap up more dishes. Rinse those dishes with cold water, turn the water off. A mix is sometimes called for, though that takes two hands and/or more effort.

Many restaurants hang heavy curtains in their doorways to keep the cold winter air out. Other establishments have revolving doors or double doors. If there are double doors, I try to make sure we're all through the first door before opening the second door. No one enjoys that cold gust of wind as they eat their dinner.

Speaking of wind, Greg bought me a super duper umbrella for Christmas. Back in San Diego, one has little need for a sturdy umbrella. For those few times when you might need an umbrella, any type should work. If a breeze inverts the umbrella, you can usually right it and be on your way. But I hope I've previously demonstrated that things are a little different here in Boston. This is another case in point. Boston can really rain. I mean pour buckets. My first summer here was filled with many thunderstorms and torrential downpours (which I relished). Additionally, the wind here can get pretty gusty. There's a street on my walk to and from work that acts as a wind tunnel. Not only will it invert the common umbrella, it will break its little bones and eat it for breakfast. Enter The Gustbuster. This puppy is a real umbrella. It has half a dozen patents and is the umbrella you buy once. No more of these $12 CVS umbrellas that last a year or less. The Gustbuster is here for the long haul. It's not very rainy in winter here, so I've only been able to test The Gustbuster a few times, but the other evening was a perfect opportunity. There was a wet snow and lots of wind. It's no fun having wet snow blow in your face, so I pulled out The Gustbuster and, though I had to hang on tight, my umbrella never even thought of inverting. I think I even heard it yawn. "Piece of cake," it sighed. I'm hoping it will be a very rainy spring.

When the snow plows plow the snow, they pretty much just shove it to the sides of the streets, where cars park. This is why people have to dig their cars out of the snow. But the snow stays in the general vicinity, so as you maneuver in and out of parallel parking spots, the car goes up and down over the snow bank. We're not talking about mountains of snow here, just a few inches. As a car moves over the snow, there's often a sickening crunch, as if the car were scraping against the curb or the adjacent cars. But it's just the crunching of snow. Greg was parking the other day, and I was glad he was confident of where his car was in relation to the things around it. I think I would have been too hesitant in my movements; nervous that every sound was car-on-car.