I finally get a free Saturday today, so I can write a blog post. I was wondering what to write about, and since I haven’t done any work since I last posted, I can’t write about my latest project.
I can write about the movies I’ve seen lately, but I like to use photos I’ve taken so that’s out. But do see A Most Violent Year if you get the chance. I didn’t even realize that Oscar Isaac was the same guy that played Llewyn Davis until I read about the movie the next day. You’ll never think about the American dream the same way again.
And then there’s the weather.
When I worked as a doorman tenants would come off the elevator and ask, “Is it going to rain today?”

I always wanted to say, “Why don’t you watch the news?” Or something smarmy like that, but what I’d always say was,
“Well, It might rain today. But then again it might not. Depends on the weather.” Some people stopped asking after that. Others were so oblivious to anyone else’s opinion that they’d forgotten I’d said the same thing to them the last time. I’m glad nobody asks me if it’s going to rain anymore.
Danusia always asks how cold it’s going to be. Or is. She has a little trouble translating Fahrenheit into Celsius. I’ve learned to say, “It’s very cold outside,” after saying it’s not too cold and then she complains it’s too cold when we get outside. She’s more sensitive to cold than I, I guess.
Another pet peeve is when people, most notably the tenants of 144 would say,
“Oh, you must hate the cold, coming from where you come from.” That’s a pretty racist assumption, that brown people from the hotter brown part of the world can’t take the cold.
“I come from Brooklyn,” was my stock answer. If I really wanted to be a dick I’d add:
“I wasn’t aware that Brooklyn is in the tropics.” I like the cold just fine, a lot more than I like the heat. At least you can bundle up in the cold, be comfortable and toasty. Until a portable air-conditioned suit is invented, there’s no comparison.
But what you can’t do anything about is the wind. Today it just about stopped me in my tracks, and yesterday it almost ripped a 6-foot 1×12 board out of my hands. And it cuts through most of your clothing like a cold knife.
Last night on the news the Chicken Little people were warning of frostbite on unprotected areas of your body “within minutes.” Fat chance of that in New York, but hey, you can always hope, ey?

This morning I went to Whole Foods for groceries, and I dressed appropriately. It said it was 15° outside on the TV.
Long sleeved, high collar knit shirt, thick fleece-lined hoodie, heavy socks and boots, Uniqlo synthetic down vest, long winter coat with hood, scarf, and my Crown coyote fur hat. This is it in the picture:

Danusia’s wearing a fake fur hat in this picture, and I don’t know why, she has a beautiful raccoon fur hat I gave her the first Christmas together. But I guess the fake fur hat is warm enough. That picture is from last year’s trip to Hudson, NY for Maggie Estep’s funeral.
I don’t wear this hat unless it goes below 20° F. It’s so warm it feels like my head is on fire if I wear it in any temperature above that. I have a thinner sheepskin hat for above 20° and below 30°, I call it my Mongol hat because it looks Mongolian. Anything above 30° deserves only a hood.
But today I had on the hat, the hoodie hood, and a scarf around my mouth. I heard on the news that’s how you catch cold, by letting super cold air into your lungs.
I was really glad I don’t smoke anymore; it used to be a real pain in the ass trying to smoke in weather like this, and when I had a mustache and smoked, it was even worse. My breath would freeze on the mustache, the cigarette would burn holes in my gloves, ash would get blown in my eyes, and worse, the cigarette would go out, and you can’t light a cigarette with gloves on. Thank god for small favors.
At least the sun was out.

When I got back from Whole Foods I passed the clutch of balloons stuck in a tree in front of the Prince Hall Masonic temple on 155th Street by the subway entrance. They’ve been there since Monday when I took the picture at the top of this post. I was surprised that they are still there, a little worse for wear and rapidly deflating, but still in the tree. I wonder if the wind will finally rip them from their perch. If not, I’ll probably post a picture of what’s left on Tuesday’s post. That is, if I’m not working Tuesday.