The Winter Solstice is here ! Things aren't as bad in Vermont as they can be in other parts of the world, where the sun barely makes an appearance during the short winter months and people go nuts without daylight. Still, it gets pretty cold and wintry and it is nice to know that you are headed (theoretically) for Spring.
Last night some friends of ours threw their first (annual) Solstice Party, which was a lot of fun. Part of the festivities included a nighttime snow shoe hike. Since they live across the street from our neighborhood ski resort, we started off straight up one of the runs to the top of the hill. About five minutes in I wished that I hadn't started the second beer a half an hour before, and another five minutes after that I began to regret having layered up for the Arctic cold (I should point out that the windchill was forecast to be 5 degrees F or -15 celsius). Rather than suffering hypothermia, the opposite was starting to be true and I was dying of the heat. Despite all of this, I managed to drag my ass up the remainder of the hike, briefly enjoy the pristine hilltop view, and then slither back down the hill.
As a demonstration of how bad this made me feel, I wasn't able to drink another beer for at least 30 minutes.
So, a lesson learned. Don't overdress, since it's just as bad as wearing too little. I guess I could have stopped to de-layer, but once you've got your groove on (and your teeth are gritted), there's just no stopping.
Nevertheless, a great thing to do on the solstice, and hopefully a winter tradition.
Thursday, December 22, 2005
Wednesday, December 21, 2005
You'd better not poot
Last month we finally bit the bullet and moved my son out of his crib and into his 'big boy' bed. I'd been resisting this move a little, since I was quite happy with the status quo and feared the consequences of having a lively 2 1/2 year old bouncing around his room at all hours of the day and night.
The first weeks were a little 'challenging', shall we say. He didn't really enjoy the process and would stand wailing at the safety gate erected in his doorway, until finally becoming too tired and falling asleep, often on the floor. On one occasion he awoke at 3am and turned on his lights, playing loudly. It didn't take us long to figure out that unscrewing the lightbulb in the fixture would be a good idea.
Anyhoo, the upshot of all of this is that he's now awake earlier and opens his door first thing. Now that he's over the 'screaming to come get me' phase, it's actually fairly fun to lie in bed and listen to his little monologue.
These days, he is performing an enthusiastic rendition of 'Santa Claus is coming to town'. He does know a good number of the words, and those he doesn't are more than made up for by both sheer volume and repeating the previous line, or substituting 'You'd better not poot, you'd better not cry' (I am spelling 'poot' per his pronunciation).
He has yet to scale the gate and break free from the bonds of parental oppression, but the day cannot be far away. I have already caught his sister passing him step stools over the gate to construct a rickety tower. You have to be impressed at their organization, improvisation and ingenuity, though.
I just hope that after Christmas is done we can get him to switch to another tune, or we'll be hearing 'Santa Claus....' until Easter.
The first weeks were a little 'challenging', shall we say. He didn't really enjoy the process and would stand wailing at the safety gate erected in his doorway, until finally becoming too tired and falling asleep, often on the floor. On one occasion he awoke at 3am and turned on his lights, playing loudly. It didn't take us long to figure out that unscrewing the lightbulb in the fixture would be a good idea.
Anyhoo, the upshot of all of this is that he's now awake earlier and opens his door first thing. Now that he's over the 'screaming to come get me' phase, it's actually fairly fun to lie in bed and listen to his little monologue.
These days, he is performing an enthusiastic rendition of 'Santa Claus is coming to town'. He does know a good number of the words, and those he doesn't are more than made up for by both sheer volume and repeating the previous line, or substituting 'You'd better not poot, you'd better not cry' (I am spelling 'poot' per his pronunciation).
He has yet to scale the gate and break free from the bonds of parental oppression, but the day cannot be far away. I have already caught his sister passing him step stools over the gate to construct a rickety tower. You have to be impressed at their organization, improvisation and ingenuity, though.
I just hope that after Christmas is done we can get him to switch to another tune, or we'll be hearing 'Santa Claus....' until Easter.
Monday, December 19, 2005
It can't be this easy...
I am feeling no stress. Not even the tiniest little bit.
Which makes me worried. Normally around this time of year, I'm feeling harried and hurried preparing for Christmas. Not that I personally have a LOT to do, you understand, just that I have a tendency to be a bit of a procrastinator.
I think two major factors could be involved in this unusual pre holiday serenity. Firstly, I only have one person to shop for - my wife. She in turn buys gifts for the other 300 people on her list. ("Oh, but you HAVE to buy a gift for that nice man that dropped off our refrigerator two years ago - he was sooo helpful"). Secondly, we moved to Vermont. I don't mean to indicate some kind of Bermuda Triangle calming effect, but since we are a bit farther from a large variety of shops, you tend to either plan ahead or shop online (which mostly also requires planning ahead).
All of the other sundry Christmassy things appear to have fallen in line, and I can't thing of anything I should be worried about. Not a thing. Did I MISS something ? It just can't be this easy.
Incidentally, gift shopping for my super spouse was completed before the month of December even began. Now THAT'S organization !
Which makes me worried. Normally around this time of year, I'm feeling harried and hurried preparing for Christmas. Not that I personally have a LOT to do, you understand, just that I have a tendency to be a bit of a procrastinator.
I think two major factors could be involved in this unusual pre holiday serenity. Firstly, I only have one person to shop for - my wife. She in turn buys gifts for the other 300 people on her list. ("Oh, but you HAVE to buy a gift for that nice man that dropped off our refrigerator two years ago - he was sooo helpful"). Secondly, we moved to Vermont. I don't mean to indicate some kind of Bermuda Triangle calming effect, but since we are a bit farther from a large variety of shops, you tend to either plan ahead or shop online (which mostly also requires planning ahead).
All of the other sundry Christmassy things appear to have fallen in line, and I can't thing of anything I should be worried about. Not a thing. Did I MISS something ? It just can't be this easy.
Incidentally, gift shopping for my super spouse was completed before the month of December even began. Now THAT'S organization !
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
Tuesday, December 13, 2005
Ah, Luxury
It's nice once in a while to really splash out and do something decadent. It's even nicer if it involves a babysitter and two nights away without the kids. Woohoo !
I took my lovely wife to Boston for a two day break, and BOY did we have fun. We shopped (too much), we dined (too much), we drank (waay too much) and we even got cultural at the Museum of Fine Art's Ansel Adams exhibit. I'd highly recommend the latter if you're in or near Boston. I've been a fan of his work for a while, but this exhibit has some very rare pieces that will surprise and educate you to the truly varied work of this genius artist.
I'm too relaxed to think of anything more creative. I'm sure normal life will resume again very soon.
I took my lovely wife to Boston for a two day break, and BOY did we have fun. We shopped (too much), we dined (too much), we drank (waay too much) and we even got cultural at the Museum of Fine Art's Ansel Adams exhibit. I'd highly recommend the latter if you're in or near Boston. I've been a fan of his work for a while, but this exhibit has some very rare pieces that will surprise and educate you to the truly varied work of this genius artist.
I'm too relaxed to think of anything more creative. I'm sure normal life will resume again very soon.
Tuesday, December 06, 2005
Small town, small life ?
I wonder sometimes what it must be like to live and die in the same place, never moving, never exploring a wider world.
There are generally two types of locals in this town that would fit this description.
The first is of the 'glass half full' mentality, fully of the mind that there isn't anything much worth exploring outside of the immediate area and that this is simply the most wonderful place that God ever made. Ever cheerful, helpful and friendly this individual is known and respected by almost everyone. The reassurance and sense of self that comes from knowing every facet of your surroundings must be wonderful.
The other is rather less appealing. The 'miserable bugger' seems unable to leave what he deems as a shithole of a town, and so drags out every day life with all of the enthusiasm of a child on the way to a dentist's appointment. He'll waste no opportunity to gripe and tell you about how the place has gone downhill, point out all of its shortcomings and generally spread his dark cloud in your direction. He seems to lack the courage to do anything else and so remains locked in the same daily cycle of life, doomed to live out his days in small town hell.
I think we're pretty lucky that most local residents who can claim to be 'true locals' fall into the first category - maybe that's what makes this place so special for those of us who come late to living here.
Since I left 'home' pretty early in life, I'll never know what it's like to have the same constant of place. Maybe that's a good thing.
There are generally two types of locals in this town that would fit this description.
The first is of the 'glass half full' mentality, fully of the mind that there isn't anything much worth exploring outside of the immediate area and that this is simply the most wonderful place that God ever made. Ever cheerful, helpful and friendly this individual is known and respected by almost everyone. The reassurance and sense of self that comes from knowing every facet of your surroundings must be wonderful.
The other is rather less appealing. The 'miserable bugger' seems unable to leave what he deems as a shithole of a town, and so drags out every day life with all of the enthusiasm of a child on the way to a dentist's appointment. He'll waste no opportunity to gripe and tell you about how the place has gone downhill, point out all of its shortcomings and generally spread his dark cloud in your direction. He seems to lack the courage to do anything else and so remains locked in the same daily cycle of life, doomed to live out his days in small town hell.
I think we're pretty lucky that most local residents who can claim to be 'true locals' fall into the first category - maybe that's what makes this place so special for those of us who come late to living here.
Since I left 'home' pretty early in life, I'll never know what it's like to have the same constant of place. Maybe that's a good thing.
Friday, December 02, 2005
It's got to be real...
Tomorrow, my little family will set out on our annual hunting expedition. We'll go armed with warm clothing, sharp implements and keen eyes for picking out the perfect specimen.
I like to do things the old fashioned way.
Sure you get buy them at the supermarket, the gas station or many vendors who dot the streets at this time of year. Somehow, going out and wrestling the thing with your own bare hands just adds to the experience. A little snow on the ground only adds to the festive feel.
Nope, Deer season is over. Now it's Christmas Tree season.
Living here in Vermont, there's no shortage of tree farms that cater to the 'cut it yourself' crowd. Searching row upon row of potential candidates adds to the excitement of finding that pine with the perfect symmetry, right height and correct degree of bushiness. There follows some crawling around on the ground, pruning of lower limbs and general huffing and puffing as the bow saw is put to use toppling the lucky winner.
At this point one realizes that it's a half mile uphill back to the car, dragging an 80 pound conifer. It's all good exercise, right ?
Still, nothing beats the aroma of a real pine tree at Christmas. We've never had a fake one, and I just cannot imagine they're the same. Not only is the smell different, but where's the fun in dragging a dusty old box out of the attic every year ?
Give me the thrill of the hunt anytime.
I like to do things the old fashioned way.
Sure you get buy them at the supermarket, the gas station or many vendors who dot the streets at this time of year. Somehow, going out and wrestling the thing with your own bare hands just adds to the experience. A little snow on the ground only adds to the festive feel.
Nope, Deer season is over. Now it's Christmas Tree season.
Living here in Vermont, there's no shortage of tree farms that cater to the 'cut it yourself' crowd. Searching row upon row of potential candidates adds to the excitement of finding that pine with the perfect symmetry, right height and correct degree of bushiness. There follows some crawling around on the ground, pruning of lower limbs and general huffing and puffing as the bow saw is put to use toppling the lucky winner.
At this point one realizes that it's a half mile uphill back to the car, dragging an 80 pound conifer. It's all good exercise, right ?
Still, nothing beats the aroma of a real pine tree at Christmas. We've never had a fake one, and I just cannot imagine they're the same. Not only is the smell different, but where's the fun in dragging a dusty old box out of the attic every year ?
Give me the thrill of the hunt anytime.
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