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When I went out this morning to fetch my bike from the garage, I thought to myself, "Maybe this third pair of pants is overkill." Since I was traveling light (read: no backpack), I left the pants on and figured if I was sweating non-existent balls even more non-existent when I got to work, then I'd shed the pants and leave them in my pseudo-office (essentially a closet for my bike).
30 minutes later, I was thanking whatever brain cell it was that made the decision to don an extra pair of pants because holy shit, it's cold out there! Don't be fooled into thinking that 22 degrees is warmer, somehow, than 11 degrees (two hands full of fingers and a tongue, right?). 22 degrees is still pretty cold. The wind chill was in the teens and I averaged 15 mph on the ride in (I pushed myself on the hills because HI, I wanted to be in a warm, non-windy place).
Handknit socks keep the toes warm until about mile 3.8, then the iciness sets in. I'm not dumb enough to only be wearing the one pair of socks--the sport socks under the knit socks seems to be just one sock layer short of not freezing.
Other layers, for posterity: silk long underwear, jeans, and flannel-lined fake Adidas pants; long sleeve t-shirt, cabled cardigan, LLBean fleece vest, New Balance fleece pullover; wind deflecting gloves, fleece EMS gloves; doubleknit hat and bike helmet. When I ride home tonight, I'll have a safety vest on top of all my other vests, fleeces, and sweaters, but I don't know that it will measurably contribute to my warmth since it is mesh and plastic.
On other news, we finally watched PotC: Dead Man's Chest. Towards the end, when the beasty came and got Captain Jack, I had to kick Mike because he was watching the movie with his mouth open, his eyes wide, and shaking his head "NO!". He looked at me and said, "Oh. I guess I kinda got into that movie..." Yeah. I guess! He also said, "I could totally watch the next one RIGHT NOW. I'M READY!!!" Next up, a few more features from Mom-flix as well as a disc or two via Netflix.
I've also finished four more books, but because I've already stopped keeping track of what I read (that lasted long), I haven't been able to give a decent update. Still, I'll try.
Esperanza Rising, Pam Munoz.
This is the juvenile selection for One Book, One Philadelphia, so I felt somewhat obligated to read it. A really fascinating read, touching on immigration issues. Esperanza is from the root word which means both to hope as well as to wait. Knowing that before I read it impacted my comprehension of the story immensely. If you like children's literature, definitely read this.
Waiting for Snow in Havana, Carlos Eire.
This is the adult selection for One Book, One Philadelphia. This is the first A-OBOP book I've read and I figured now was as good a time as any to dive in. To be honest, I started the book just before Christmas but then went on vacation, so I finished the book in '07. Still, a phenomenally emotional read, at times hilarious and tragic, mundane and fantastic. Eire will be leading book discussions at a number of libraries in the Philadelphia area over the next couple of months and I'm excited to attend a session or two.
Even though I only recently finished the book, I'm already considering a reread simply because it is such a rich book. One of the things that I particularly like in this book (and it doesn't necessarily work in other books) is that the chapters serve as reading doses: I did devour this book, but I could see myself reading it a chapter at a time, savoring the words and the stories and the things unwritten.
Broke Heart Blues, Joyce Carol Oates.
This book is terribly disjointed. I'm more than 3/4 through it and I still don't feel invested in it. I'm actually returning it to the library unfinished. The point of view skips around a lot, the characters--high schoolers for the most part--seem whiny and self-absorbed, focusing on the so-called main character, Johny Reddy Heart. I say so-called because John Reddy Heart's point of view--whether narrative, omniscient, or implied--is just never fully fleshed, so basically the book reads like a horny schoolgirl's diary ("Dear Diary, I wish John Reddy Heart would fuck me because then I'd be a woman. Love, Me") or an envious teammate's hitlist ("John Reddy was what the girls all wanted, so we guys would let our girls pretend they were sucking his dick when they were really sucking ours. What I wouldn't give to kill that punk, though."). And this is every chapter. I thought, maybe, once I read through one section (there are three) and started the next, that the style would change or that John Reddy Heart would take over as narrator and something would be revealed to the reader other than the 16 year old boy was electric sex on a stick. Not so!
Housekeeping, Marilynne Robinson
This the story of Ruth and Lucille, orphans growing up in the small desolate town of Fingerbone in the vast northwest of America. After their mother's return to her hometown and her subsequent suicide (she drove off a cliff and into a lake), the two girls find themselves in the care of first their grandmother (who lost her husband to the same lake her daughter drove into), then two dotty great-aunts, and then finally their mother's sister, a married-but-separated stranger that prefers the transient lifestyle than that of the small town. The girls must come to terms with their history and each does so in her own way.
This novel read like a dream, though to be clear, I prefer literary works of fiction to popular works of fiction (that is to say, this was the former). It's a novel that is a haunting story about conformity, loss, and love. It's a lyrical novel, and should be read for not only the story, but the tapestry of language as well.
There are a few others that I need to write about, but I'll have to do that later.
30 minutes later, I was thanking whatever brain cell it was that made the decision to don an extra pair of pants because holy shit, it's cold out there! Don't be fooled into thinking that 22 degrees is warmer, somehow, than 11 degrees (two hands full of fingers and a tongue, right?). 22 degrees is still pretty cold. The wind chill was in the teens and I averaged 15 mph on the ride in (I pushed myself on the hills because HI, I wanted to be in a warm, non-windy place).
Handknit socks keep the toes warm until about mile 3.8, then the iciness sets in. I'm not dumb enough to only be wearing the one pair of socks--the sport socks under the knit socks seems to be just one sock layer short of not freezing.
Other layers, for posterity: silk long underwear, jeans, and flannel-lined fake Adidas pants; long sleeve t-shirt, cabled cardigan, LLBean fleece vest, New Balance fleece pullover; wind deflecting gloves, fleece EMS gloves; doubleknit hat and bike helmet. When I ride home tonight, I'll have a safety vest on top of all my other vests, fleeces, and sweaters, but I don't know that it will measurably contribute to my warmth since it is mesh and plastic.
On other news, we finally watched PotC: Dead Man's Chest. Towards the end, when the beasty came and got Captain Jack, I had to kick Mike because he was watching the movie with his mouth open, his eyes wide, and shaking his head "NO!". He looked at me and said, "Oh. I guess I kinda got into that movie..." Yeah. I guess! He also said, "I could totally watch the next one RIGHT NOW. I'M READY!!!" Next up, a few more features from Mom-flix as well as a disc or two via Netflix.
I've also finished four more books, but because I've already stopped keeping track of what I read (that lasted long), I haven't been able to give a decent update. Still, I'll try.
Esperanza Rising, Pam Munoz.
This is the juvenile selection for One Book, One Philadelphia, so I felt somewhat obligated to read it. A really fascinating read, touching on immigration issues. Esperanza is from the root word which means both to hope as well as to wait. Knowing that before I read it impacted my comprehension of the story immensely. If you like children's literature, definitely read this.
Waiting for Snow in Havana, Carlos Eire.
This is the adult selection for One Book, One Philadelphia. This is the first A-OBOP book I've read and I figured now was as good a time as any to dive in. To be honest, I started the book just before Christmas but then went on vacation, so I finished the book in '07. Still, a phenomenally emotional read, at times hilarious and tragic, mundane and fantastic. Eire will be leading book discussions at a number of libraries in the Philadelphia area over the next couple of months and I'm excited to attend a session or two.
Even though I only recently finished the book, I'm already considering a reread simply because it is such a rich book. One of the things that I particularly like in this book (and it doesn't necessarily work in other books) is that the chapters serve as reading doses: I did devour this book, but I could see myself reading it a chapter at a time, savoring the words and the stories and the things unwritten.
Broke Heart Blues, Joyce Carol Oates.
This book is terribly disjointed. I'm more than 3/4 through it and I still don't feel invested in it. I'm actually returning it to the library unfinished. The point of view skips around a lot, the characters--high schoolers for the most part--seem whiny and self-absorbed, focusing on the so-called main character, Johny Reddy Heart. I say so-called because John Reddy Heart's point of view--whether narrative, omniscient, or implied--is just never fully fleshed, so basically the book reads like a horny schoolgirl's diary ("Dear Diary, I wish John Reddy Heart would fuck me because then I'd be a woman. Love, Me") or an envious teammate's hitlist ("John Reddy was what the girls all wanted, so we guys would let our girls pretend they were sucking his dick when they were really sucking ours. What I wouldn't give to kill that punk, though."). And this is every chapter. I thought, maybe, once I read through one section (there are three) and started the next, that the style would change or that John Reddy Heart would take over as narrator and something would be revealed to the reader other than the 16 year old boy was electric sex on a stick. Not so!
Housekeeping, Marilynne Robinson
This the story of Ruth and Lucille, orphans growing up in the small desolate town of Fingerbone in the vast northwest of America. After their mother's return to her hometown and her subsequent suicide (she drove off a cliff and into a lake), the two girls find themselves in the care of first their grandmother (who lost her husband to the same lake her daughter drove into), then two dotty great-aunts, and then finally their mother's sister, a married-but-separated stranger that prefers the transient lifestyle than that of the small town. The girls must come to terms with their history and each does so in her own way.
This novel read like a dream, though to be clear, I prefer literary works of fiction to popular works of fiction (that is to say, this was the former). It's a novel that is a haunting story about conformity, loss, and love. It's a lyrical novel, and should be read for not only the story, but the tapestry of language as well.
There are a few others that I need to write about, but I'll have to do that later.
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no subject
Date: 2007-01-30 03:22 pm (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2007-01-30 03:28 pm (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2007-01-30 03:56 pm (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2007-01-30 04:00 pm (UTC)From:that's a longish walk, esp. if you first planned to ride!
i need to hit up that store where you got the sale tights... or, i need to go where Miss Jackie gets her microfiber tights. the long underwear is getting more usage than recommended.
no subject
Date: 2007-01-30 04:58 pm (UTC)From:I got the last pair of large at that shop. Altho I have wondered if you can find them online (bcbg maxazaria) see if they are on sale there.
I think I need to find jackie's tight shop as well. My long johns all need more rotation.
no subject
Date: 2007-01-31 12:26 am (UTC)From:I Goldberg has silk long johns. And silk socks! Hooray for those. I've been wearing mine every day, washing them in the sink and draping them over the space heater to dry. These solve my problem of hating to wear two pairs of socks and make my shoes tight.
no subject
Date: 2007-01-30 04:18 pm (UTC)From:Thing about biking in the cold: If you aren't cold when you start out, you're overdressed.
no subject
Date: 2007-01-30 04:27 pm (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2007-01-30 07:41 pm (UTC)From:Last night I did bike a tiny bit and some lady in the store threw a pity party for me over it. It was embarassing. I guess she doesn't know I have a car.
no subject
Date: 2007-01-30 07:47 pm (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2007-01-30 07:54 pm (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2007-01-30 04:37 pm (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2007-01-30 04:41 pm (UTC)From:HA!
no subject
Date: 2007-01-30 07:30 pm (UTC)From:Jackie.
no subject
Date: 2007-02-01 04:14 pm (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2007-01-30 09:51 pm (UTC)From:And eek, could you bend your legs with 3 pairs of pants? Hehe. Yay for biking!
no subject
Date: 2007-01-30 10:59 pm (UTC)From:in defense of my pants, the silk long underwear is thin, the jeans were lightweight, and the faux-adidas pants were a size or so too large. i looked like Ralphie's kid brother in A Christmas Story, but i managed. AND i hit a patch of a mini snow squall on the way home. that was fun.
no subject
Date: 2007-02-01 03:53 pm (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2007-02-01 04:12 pm (UTC)From: