Is it time?

The bees are doing their thing.
The last stout is drunk.
Is hibernation almost over?

Winter is fun

Gives you an excuse to dress like a ninja and the Michelin man at the same time.

How can you ride in this cold?

It also helps to think of Chris and Eszter on dawn patrol - doesn't feel too cold after that.

Sixty to zero in five

Friday

Too hot walking in short sleeves, no jacket required. Kids in shorts playing frisbee on the lawns. Face slightly pink from lunch hour stroll.

Tuesday


Snow
Likely
Hi -1 °F

Never a dull moment around here, at least as far as the weather is concerned. Best go find the snow pants again.

GSD season

Winter is not my best season. While we haven't exactly been snowed in down here, I still tend to hole up at home at this time of year, sometimes even when the sun is shining. I do emerge for the occasional movie or social gathering (I just watched two football games in a row in the presence of other people, partly to mitigate my hermit status). Mostly, though, I hibernate.

I figured if I'm going to retreat from the world for a while, I might as well be useful during my withdrawal. Hence, GSD season. That's Get Sh*t Done season, though, if you read books by Jasper Fforde, you might easily mistake it for Global Standard Deity season, which is understandable. I've got a backlog of projects and interests all fighting for my attention, and the extra time off during the holidays has afforded me the opportunity to get to the following so far:

#1. Overcoming my trepidation around yeast breads. Some people I know can throw a perfect loaf together sans recipe while simultaneously conversing with three other people (yeah, I'm looking at you, Walt and RC). I have no kneading skills and little faith in a living ingredient. Attempt number one was probably beginner's luck, because I ended up with something that looked and tasted just like the Oregon Herb bread from Great Harvest.

Attempt number two barely resembled bread and certainly looked nothing like the light wheat sandwich bread I was aiming for. I got a little cocky, substituting one yeast for another and hardly measuring, and I got what I deserved. Fortunately, even awful looking bread is still edible.

#2. Donuts. These are far less intimidating, especially if you have a Quick 6. This was the first time I'd ever made something other than chocolate. Strangely, the pumpkin didn't taste much different and a coworker said they smelled like fried chicken. Must be the thirty years of built up oil.


#3. Repairing clothes. Between bike damage, angry shoes and general abuse, I accumulate a large pile of things that have developed holes and popped stitches and the pile lives in the corner of the closet till it falls over or I really want to wear something from the bottom of it.

This year, I'm learning about darning socks from online videos. Note to those interested in darning: darning is for hand-knit wooly socks, not machine-knit socks. I chose to ignore this.

And I finally get to wear my favorite pants again. A poor saddle choice on the commuter bike means that I now get to sport symmetrical patches on my butt. Yippee.

I guess if I'm going to be a hermit, at least I'll be a hermit who's wearing hole-free clothing and has all the carbs she could want.

Two wheels are better than four

One of our quick snow dumps blew through this afternoon between lunch and the evening commute, leaving a nice layer of slick slush bordered by a couple inches of the white stuff. One coworker managed to drive about a quarter mile in twenty minutes. With one gear and no traction, the tank bike got me home in less than an hour. I only had to walk up one hill and stop once when my front wheel ceased to turn from all the ice clumps wedged under the fender. Go tank bike!

I think the studded tires are coming out tomorrow, for that added layer of invincibility.

(tank in the spring, post-tagging)

Thinking of Rocky

No, not the fictitious boxer or even the mountains nearby. Rockhampton was the city we flew out of after our trip through Queensland was over and it's been in the news recently. Unfortunately, they're currently underwater, or pretty close to it. The city is known as the nation's largest cattle exporter, and now it's also known as the final dumping ground of the Fitzroy River as it makes its way to the sea.

We entered Rocky by coach in the night, so I didn't really see much of the outlying area, but I remember crossing bridges and in the morning, I took a walk by the river to stretch my legs before the flight back to Sydney. The architecture in the city center was pretty grand, even if some of the buildings were vacant. The riverwalk is now underwater, with the murky swells lapping at the front door of the pub we didn't stay at.



Queensland homes can be pretty ornate. They're most often built with the living quarters raised off the ground on stumps for cross ventilation in the hot summers. Now the water is seeping up through the floor boards in some neighborhoods.

We didn't spend much time in Rocky, but the people I observed there reminded me of other Australians we'd met. At the hotel, the young, drunken wedding guests managed to keep my floor up most of the night, but, before that, one of them stopped in the hall to assist me with my malfunctioning room key. She was all dressed up and pretty boozy, but she wanted to help if she could. The next morning, in the craft area of the local farmers' market, I saw tea cozies and crocheted bridge card holders for the first time in decades. We're in an iphone-addicted world, but the older ladies believe that there's still room for those slightly sinister toilet paper cover dolls.

These are people who soldier on, no matter what and they'll help one another sort through the aftermath. Their town's going to be a mess for a while, but they'll work it out. After all, this is a place where flowers grow on trees.

Crocodiles also hang out at the boat ramps, but I'm trying not to think about them.