Sometimes it's just too cold. Right now it's minus 25. With the windchill it's minus 30.
For those of you not familiar with the 'windchill factor', think of a hot summer day when a breeze hits your face. Only it's way below freezing and the breeze is a fast wind. It accelerates frostbite and makes your nose hurt and people walk around with their lips drawn back and their teeth bared, squinting. Grimacing. Not sure why. It doesn't help.
It's the kind of weather that makes all plans contingent on whether or not the car will start. Snow makes that grunchy noise and the salt you sprinkled on last night's flash freeze just sits there, not melting much of anything. Steam comes up through the sewer grates. There's ice on the inside of your windows. Not just frost. Ice.
Too cold to hitchhike, too cold to walk more than a few blocks without ducking in someplace to warm up. Somebody told me once that there's no such thing as bad weather. Just wrong clothing. Yeah, well. Right clothing is expensive.
Yesterday we went to the soup kitchen for the first lunch of '09. Not many people attended because of the weather but the car was fuller than usual. The back seat started singing "Swing Low" along with Mr. Cash on CD.
Had a nice chat over soup and sandwiches with E., and R., and G.J. Mostly we talked about food. Pastrami, pudding, coconut cream pie. "You know what's good?..." "Oh, yeah. This one time I had..." "That's the best, especially if..."
And potatoes. I don't know what it is with potatoes, but every one of these food-centred conversations I've been in on has come around to potatoes. Potato soup. Scalloped potatoes. Mashed potatoes. Baked potatoes. Stuffed potato skins. French fries. Home fries. Cheesy potatoes. Latkes. Roasted with garlic or onion soup mix. Spuds.
Comfort food, I guess. The stuff of home cooking.
Dinner tonight was courtesy St. Something's. Wonderful spread. I got there a little late because somebody needed a ride and I walked into a room that was full and friendly and warm and good. The food was tasty and varied and, guess what? There were potatoes! Great big scoops of buttery mashed.
Lots of laughing and teasing and a few new faces. I've been promised an advance peek at a book being written by a woman at the Motel. A story, which is perfect.
More smoking than usual. Too cold to stand outside. But most of the smokers wait until people have finished eating. Etiquette.
This Sunday, we're starting up church again. We'd put it on hiatus while we got Breakfast up and running. Breakfast is an anchor now, and church fits in on the Sundays between. I'm looking forward to seeing what happens. We'll sing a few songs, read something from the Bible and pray. That's all the planning we've done.
A few years ago I would think that was a sign of carelessness. But experience has made it look like comfortableness. With Dinner, and later with Breakfast, I've learned that you need to let things be what they want to be. You can't make Junior wear Grampa's suit.
So although we've had a history of church services being held in that room, we're starting over. Starting with a clean slate and seeing what happens.
Nothing I like better than just starting out.
r
For those of you not familiar with the 'windchill factor', think of a hot summer day when a breeze hits your face. Only it's way below freezing and the breeze is a fast wind. It accelerates frostbite and makes your nose hurt and people walk around with their lips drawn back and their teeth bared, squinting. Grimacing. Not sure why. It doesn't help.
It's the kind of weather that makes all plans contingent on whether or not the car will start. Snow makes that grunchy noise and the salt you sprinkled on last night's flash freeze just sits there, not melting much of anything. Steam comes up through the sewer grates. There's ice on the inside of your windows. Not just frost. Ice.
Too cold to hitchhike, too cold to walk more than a few blocks without ducking in someplace to warm up. Somebody told me once that there's no such thing as bad weather. Just wrong clothing. Yeah, well. Right clothing is expensive.
Yesterday we went to the soup kitchen for the first lunch of '09. Not many people attended because of the weather but the car was fuller than usual. The back seat started singing "Swing Low" along with Mr. Cash on CD.
Had a nice chat over soup and sandwiches with E., and R., and G.J. Mostly we talked about food. Pastrami, pudding, coconut cream pie. "You know what's good?..." "Oh, yeah. This one time I had..." "That's the best, especially if..."
And potatoes. I don't know what it is with potatoes, but every one of these food-centred conversations I've been in on has come around to potatoes. Potato soup. Scalloped potatoes. Mashed potatoes. Baked potatoes. Stuffed potato skins. French fries. Home fries. Cheesy potatoes. Latkes. Roasted with garlic or onion soup mix. Spuds.
Comfort food, I guess. The stuff of home cooking.
Dinner tonight was courtesy St. Something's. Wonderful spread. I got there a little late because somebody needed a ride and I walked into a room that was full and friendly and warm and good. The food was tasty and varied and, guess what? There were potatoes! Great big scoops of buttery mashed.
Lots of laughing and teasing and a few new faces. I've been promised an advance peek at a book being written by a woman at the Motel. A story, which is perfect.
More smoking than usual. Too cold to stand outside. But most of the smokers wait until people have finished eating. Etiquette.
This Sunday, we're starting up church again. We'd put it on hiatus while we got Breakfast up and running. Breakfast is an anchor now, and church fits in on the Sundays between. I'm looking forward to seeing what happens. We'll sing a few songs, read something from the Bible and pray. That's all the planning we've done.
A few years ago I would think that was a sign of carelessness. But experience has made it look like comfortableness. With Dinner, and later with Breakfast, I've learned that you need to let things be what they want to be. You can't make Junior wear Grampa's suit.
So although we've had a history of church services being held in that room, we're starting over. Starting with a clean slate and seeing what happens.
Nothing I like better than just starting out.
r
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