I can understand the appeal of the Polar Bear Club. For the last few weeks, I've been taking my dog for an evening walk in the increasingly cold weather. I put on a couple layers of clothes, bundle up in my comfortable winter coat (thanks, Kelsey), throw on an iPod, hat and gloves, grab the leash, and off we go in a roughly 1¼ mile square to Stacey's school and back. Each night recently it has been getting progressively more uncomfortable, and after grocery shopping Sunday out in the 3° cold, I had to skip the nightly walk to stay thawed out (plus not wanting to get run over by crazed sports fans on a beer run).
Monday morning I made up for it in the 0° cold by walking the roughly 1 mile round trip to my bank from the office. The wind blew all the heat off of my cheeks, so I kept a downward gaze with most of my face buried in my coat. It was borderline painful to look up and check my surroundings (which I do frequently in a constant vigil to avoid ninjas and panhandlers), but I didn't need to often, as the streets were predictably empty. When I got back to work, I was completely fatigued and didn't get my second wind for about an hour. The struggle to keep yourself warm can really sap the energy out of you.
0°, incidentally, appears to be the temperature that causes schools to close in suburban Ohio. Between two days of brrr and the snow today, my kid's school has been closed for three days in a row.
I've decided to replace Diet Mt. Dew with a generic grocery store knock-off, Big K Diet Citrus Drop. The Kroger brand drink also has a knock-off slogan, "Pop the drop" replacing Mountain Dew's "Do the dew". It's cheap ($3 for 5 two liters), and uses real live aspartame instead of Dew's "tuned up" sucralose. Nasty.
So I've been in touch with my inner 16 year-old girl this morning. I opted to work from home because of last night's snow, so I've got MTV on in the background. I've been listening to such musical atrocities as R&B posers bragging on their lovemaking prowess, the misunderstood emo complaining about being... misunderstood, new school grunge in a pale imitation of Nirvana, and other styles that have me scratching my head as why kids go around quoting their lyrics. Of course, there's plenty of music in my generation to compare with this level of madness, for every Santana and Yes there was a Flock of Seagulls and Foreigner.
Amid all the crap on MTV this morning, I found myself enjoying some gems, namely Fall Out Boy and Gym Class Heroes. I couldn't help myself. Reminds me of the guilty pleasure I had enjoying myself at the Hillary Duff concert when I took Stacey and two neighbor girls last year.
Lastly, the Girl Scouts Daddy-Daughter dance is coming up here in late February, where we do some old dances like the Twist, the Hokey Pokey, and the Electric Slide. Based on this latest news, I'll need to make sure we do the Electric Slide correctly so we don't get sued.
Chekhov–Saunders Humanity Kit.
3 hours ago