But it's spring breaaaak!

There's an ice pick in the basement near the washer and dryer. I want to write my brief about as much as I want to ram that ice pick through my foot.

It's not that bad

The following is a short piece I wrote for a soon-to-be-launched section of the admitted student website. Okay, so I'm double-dipping with my own work, but I have a brief to write and it's been another chunk of forever since I posted.

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I fully believe that somewhere in the inner recesses of The Powers That Be in Ann Arbor, there’s a handbook of stock responses to calm people’s fears about the weather. It’s not a long book—more like a pamphlet, really—since it essentially consists of variations on the theme of “it’s not that bad.” Severity of weather, like many things, is highly relative; compared to spontaneous combustion, dropping a hammer on your foot isn’t “that bad.”

I kid. There is nothing painful or unpleasant about Ann Arbor winters as long as you remember one simple truth: there is no bad weather, only bad clothing. I came to Ann Arbor after five years in Texas, somewhat anxious that I had gone soft in my ability to tolerate cold weather. While packing, I noticed a substantial lack of warm clothes in my wardrobe. Somehow the prospect of facing a tough winter with a leather jacket and several pairs of sandals didn’t hold much appeal, so my visit home to Montana included the task of winterizing my closet. In a previously unparalleled display of fortitude and frugality, I attacked discount and second-hand stores to produce a fully functional winter wardrobe for about $300. The name of the game here is layers, and I came prepared.

Is this weather glass half full or half empty? It depends if you’re pouring or drinking—perspective changes everything. You can indulge your fears about our winters with statistics about average January temperatures, monthly snowfall forecasts, and the nose-freezing presence of wind-chill, or you can get excited about the amazing efficacy of fleece. You can lament the inconveniences of a night of heavy snow, or you can impress yourself with the new-found muscle tone your arms develop as you clean the snow and ice off your car a few times a week. Drink hot beverages, wear a scarf, and discover the sweet excellence of wearing silk long johns under your jeans; winter is something to be enjoyed, not feared.

The reality of Michigan winters may seem daunting to the uninitiated, but this is a hurdle that is easy to overcome. Start with a few new sweaters, and repeat to yourself “there is no bad weather, only bad clothing.”

Tip of the day

When you're making oven cinnamon toast under the broiler, use extra care while reaching into the oven that you don't touch the oven mitt to the broiler itself. It may, studies suggest, catch on fire a little.

Oh hell

I would like the record to reflect that I am posting before a month has lapsed since my last post. Whoa...I was just unconsciously inclined to capitalize the "my" in that sentence. Weird. I mean, I've always known I'm self-involved, but that's ridiculous.

What to say--the front end of this semester is really loaded with work in our writing/research class, and on top of the 5th class (elective), there's just a cubic buttload of things to do. It's making me even more grateful that job stuff for the summer is just about settled, as a new job search would take time I don't feel I have right now.

Still, I'm not complaining. There's busy, and there's overwhelmed, and I am most decidedly the former. Winter in A2 is plugging along--we have warmer days and colder days. As my partner in triathlon-related crime says: there is no bad weather, only bad clothing. It's true--a decent coat and a pair of silk long underwear (to go under your jeans) will pull you through just fine as long as you cover your head. We've had a great deal recently of what the weather people wittily call "wintry mix," which is shorthand for rain/freezing rain/ice/sleet/snow/camels. We were bathed in this "mix" last Sunday, which made for an interesting walk to dinner in downtown A2. J and I did our Valentine's date a day early (since Monday nights are more likely than not to be devoted to reading), and as such I was wearing heels to walk to the restaurant. The sidewalks were slicker than snot on glass, and it was a merciful wonder that he's tall and stronger standing than the force I exert by falling. The real fun, however, was on the walk home, when the sidewalks had had the luxury of a few more hours at colder temperatures. It was all ice, all the time. Somehow, we made it back without falling, and I have no idea how.

Now that tax returns are on the way (heh, or will be if I ever get my motherloving W2 from TPR), I'm getting serious about a bike. This is the lovely little tri-bike I'm strongly considering...I may be in love with it:



Sweet, huh?

If you feel like you have too much time on your hands and desperately need something to absorb, oh, an hour or 8 out of your day, start your virtual snowflake addiction. I take no responsibility for the detriment this will cause to your productivity.

In recent Totally Weird and Disturbing News is J.Crew's recent decision to start carrying "wedding and dressup" clothes for women. I'm sorry, what? I took a few minutes last night between reading assignments to see if there was anything good on sale, and thought they were kidding with this link. No, they aren't. You can now buy a wedding dress from J.Crew, which...weird. Not only do all of them have at least one serious design flaw, it's hard to get past the, well, fugly presentation on the site. To wit:



Um, this might be a novel and outlandish suggestion, but would it make a scintilla of sense to show these allegedly "wedding" dresses on women who look like they might run off to be a "bride"? We could maybe do her hair? Ask her to stand up straight? Feed her, for christ's sake? I discussed this with Captain Chaos, and we agree it's as though the photo shoot people had a conversation with the production aides that went something like this: "we're going to need a yucky backdrop....something in the puke color family, but tending toward the baby-ate-peas-and-shit end of the spectrum....and we'll need you to find some bright lipstick, not pink, not orange, but orange-y. Also, please get the model working on a face that's more smirk than smile...kind of like the expression she'd expect to give at a dinner with her in-laws after the dog has humped her leg for the 8th time and she's trying to mask her disgust by pretending it's kind of cute. Mkay?"

I mean really.