I got an email from my mom yesterday that read something like this: “You haven’t called and you aren’t even updating your blog. Are you ok?!” The answer (which, being a good daughter, I told her in a phone call last night) is that yes, I am ok, just taking “real” college classes for the first time (not intros) and that keeps me very, very busy, especially with everything else I’m doing on the side this semester. But it’s a good busy, really.
The weather is extremely cold- last night we watched WeatherBug, hoping that we would get up to a whole degree, not just .4 of one. But it’s definitely manageable. I can’t stand being outside much more than the 10-15 minutes it takes to get from building to building, but I can handle that. The weirdest part is when you’re outside, the mucous in your nose starts to freeze, and suddenly it feels like you have very huge boogers in your nose. It goes back to normal soon after getting back inside. I really thought the weather was going to be a lot worse that it has been so far. I was expecting feet of snow, driving wind all the time, and the rumored permacloud (solid cloud wall for months). We have a foot of snow and the natives here are like “wow, I can’t believe we got so much so fast! This hasn’t happened in years!” I mean, schools are cancelled, and have been for a few days. Oh. Ok. Maybe I overdid the worrying. There is also no permacloud to be seen. It’s about half cloudy and half sunny. The wind is bad when it’s here, but it’s not omnipresent.
Maybe I should be thanking God rather than complaining. Hmm.
Of course, Joey is coping much better than I am. Only Joey would complain, when it is literally 1 degree outside, that he got too hot on the way over from his dorm. Yes, in one degree weather, my boyfriend managed to be overdressed. Good grief.
3 hours ago
Yes, I did indeed get too hot in 1 degree weather (and lower), but that's simply because I seem to produce an abnormal amount of body heat with physical exertion. However, I would like to say that last night, the wind was so bad that my legs were in pain and stinging, and once I got inside, they turned red and welt-y. Of all nights to not wear long johns, I pick one with negative degree temperatures and strong wind (and airy jeans).
ReplyDeleteI think that might have been too much information for some people. But as I strongly support commenting on my blog, I'll leave it alone.
ReplyDeleteheh-heh, heh-heh-heh--she said "boogers."
ReplyDeleteI'm afraid your expectations for severe winter weather have arrived - Fedex'd the earmuffs today (not easy to find as the stores are now putting out their warmer weather wear -think shorts and sandals)Rethinking spring break in the sunny South? Mom
ReplyDeleteYAY Mommy! I love you.
ReplyDeleteBego, Joey wants to know what "bego" means. I think I knew at some point, but I forgot.
My name is Bego.
ReplyDeleteOk, now that the laughter has subsided, while you know I am Cuban, in actuality, ethnically, I'm half Basque (from the Spain side). Thus, I can say bad words in a pre-Indo-European language that has no origins in anything prior to it. That, and a quarter, won't even get me a cup of coffee.
My family is from the province of Guipuzcoa, whose capital, Bilbao, is a very famous place. The patroness of Bilbao is Our Lady of Begona (that n should have a tilde above it), and thus, my Basque family, suffering from exile having escaped Generalisimo Franco's torture of the Basques at Hitler's existence that we were as dirty and as responsible for the country's ills as the Jews were in Germany, named me after their beloved patroness.
Meanwhile, my mother was going to name me Cristina, but as she was knocked out and indisposed (as was the habit in 1963) the Basque grandparents swooped in and made me take one for the Gipper ( I could have said the Aranguren's and Etxeberria's but I guess that would be meaningless to you).
They kindly threw in Maria, which saved me from the wrath of Sister St. Thomas at Christ the King elementary, where they refused to call me Begona, fearing it was some freaky pagan name. Goes to show you that some creepy old nuns don't know anything about the european church. If I had been a cynical child, I would have taken Kunigunde as my confirmation name, just to make them look up that saint.
So Joey, when you call me Bego, after the initial snort, and the requisite "Lego my Ego, Bego," you will know that you are honoring a big part of my heritage.
That, and some days it feels like every hispanic woman I know is named Maria, so I opted for something a little...different.
Stories of how we become...are fabulous. And winter stories are wonderful too, keep them coming, as what passes for "winter" down here is more like a taciturn day in the spring.
ReplyDeleteFrozen boogers, soggy pants legs and shoes, these are some of the things great college memories are made of, well not those specifically, but if we never endure hardships, even small manageable ones, what boring people we become. O.K. some we could have lived without : )I'm just say'n.
I always found the intro classes to be the most difficult...perhaps because I was bored. At any rate, hang in!
ReplyDeleteThis is a great postt
ReplyDelete