A month ago I was making my way home from St. Maarten, tanned, with the mother of all hangovers after 4 weeks of busting my balls down in the Dutch West Indies. A 4 day turnaround brought me back up here, and for the first time in my life, I really felt the cold when I went out on deck. I mean, I feel the cold, but it's not a bother to me. I'm fat, I'm a northerner, and I used to fish for a living. Being cold is a luxury. Being cold and wet and smelling like a dead whale's ass is half of a lobsterman's job, and I did that job on and off (mostly on) for 20 years. Even so, when I got back to work here in NY, I felt the cold and didn't like it. My hips ache now. When I slip slightly on a patch of ice, my pants immediately start to fall down. Ridership on the Staten Island Ferry is obviously going to be affected. People are going to look out the window, and then vomit.
All the same, I'm not complaining too much. We got about 10" of snow. There's a lot more home in Massachusetts. My neighbors lost their cars because the storm surge was a lot higher than anyone expected. Another friend had seawater coming in through her ceiling fixtures. Still, to go from THIS
To shoveling snow in high winds and temps in the teens... well, that's hard, too, on the body. Speaking of, my back is singing after yesterday's marathon shoveling session, and I find myself humming the words whenever I sit down, get up, bend over or unbend- a whole chorus or groans and ouches. Getting older, I guess. Still, not my first, not my last, I hope. Here's a picture from 10 years ago,showing about the same conditions.
The Writer as She’s Spoken
15 minutes ago