It's five degrees outside.
For places like Alaska, Canada, upper Minnesota and Siberia that kind of temperature isn't, perhaps, such a big deal. But for Jersey City, New Jersey, it is. The build up all week from the Weather Channel, which jumps at any anomaly in weather to declare armagedon and that we're all surely going to die -- unless, of course, you keep your TV tuned to the Weather Channel for its insightful tidbits on how to survive the cold (dress warmly and stay inside) or a hurricane (stay inside) or a tornado (move) -- was typically frenetic in its broadcast, as it is wont to do with any cold spell, snow storm, heat wave, downpour, etc.
But even if I hadn't had the Weather Channel on, I certainly would've realized it was very very cold outside by the thin layer of ice that had accumulated overnight on the inside of the windows of my condo. It reminded me of when I was a young teen standing in my bedroom scratching my name and the name of a girl from school inside a heart shape, only to have it melt away by the time the sun rose to noon's height. So I did, in fact, dress appropriately warmly (thanks, Weather Channel!) in order to take my Gracie for her morning business then let her play in the nearby dog park.
There's something thrilling being in cold this severe. It makes you feel alive. If only for the wildly unrealistic fear that if you tripped and banged your head, or got lost, or for whatever reason had to stay outside all day you could very well die of exposure. And when that cold rips through the seams of your clothing or crawls underneath the space between the multiple layers you're wearing you actually feel your skin, and body, and are aware of the physical part of yourself much more than in any other kind of weather. It's exciting, and so very unpleasant, and it makes you crave the moment you return inside your home and that 70 degree warmth hits you and you know you can unwrap, grab a hot tea, then crawl under a blanket on the sofa with your dog.
Now that's Heaven.
For places like Alaska, Canada, upper Minnesota and Siberia that kind of temperature isn't, perhaps, such a big deal. But for Jersey City, New Jersey, it is. The build up all week from the Weather Channel, which jumps at any anomaly in weather to declare armagedon and that we're all surely going to die -- unless, of course, you keep your TV tuned to the Weather Channel for its insightful tidbits on how to survive the cold (dress warmly and stay inside) or a hurricane (stay inside) or a tornado (move) -- was typically frenetic in its broadcast, as it is wont to do with any cold spell, snow storm, heat wave, downpour, etc.
But even if I hadn't had the Weather Channel on, I certainly would've realized it was very very cold outside by the thin layer of ice that had accumulated overnight on the inside of the windows of my condo. It reminded me of when I was a young teen standing in my bedroom scratching my name and the name of a girl from school inside a heart shape, only to have it melt away by the time the sun rose to noon's height. So I did, in fact, dress appropriately warmly (thanks, Weather Channel!) in order to take my Gracie for her morning business then let her play in the nearby dog park.
There's something thrilling being in cold this severe. It makes you feel alive. If only for the wildly unrealistic fear that if you tripped and banged your head, or got lost, or for whatever reason had to stay outside all day you could very well die of exposure. And when that cold rips through the seams of your clothing or crawls underneath the space between the multiple layers you're wearing you actually feel your skin, and body, and are aware of the physical part of yourself much more than in any other kind of weather. It's exciting, and so very unpleasant, and it makes you crave the moment you return inside your home and that 70 degree warmth hits you and you know you can unwrap, grab a hot tea, then crawl under a blanket on the sofa with your dog.
Now that's Heaven.
RSS Feed