~*~ Rose-Colored Glosses ~*~

hovering between the quest for absolute truth and the pursuit of utter nonsense
gloss, n.
  1. A brief explanatory note usually inserted in the margin or between lines of a text.
  2. An extensive commentary, often accompanying a text or publication.
  3. A purposefully misleading interpretation or explanation.
~ welcome to Rose-Colored Glosses ~ bloghome | contact ~
* Archives *
March 2003
April 2003
August 2003
September 2003
October 2003
November 2003
December 2003
January 2004
February 2004
March 2004
April 2004
May 2004
June 2004
July 2004
January 2005
February 2005
March 2005
April 2005
May 2005
July 2005
August 2005
September 2005
November 2005
December 2005
March 2006
April 2006
May 2006
June 2006
August 2006
September 2006
December 2006
January 2007
December 2007
January 2008
February 2008
April 2008
May 2008
July 2008
August 2008
September 2008
November 2008
February 2009
March 2009
February 2012
* Stuff I Read *
Bioethics Blog
Poor Mojo's Newswire
Language Hat
Overheard In New York
Areas of His Expertise
* Quotes *
"The limits of my language means the limits of my world."
-Ludwig Wittgenstein
"An error does not become truth by reason of multiplied propagation, nor does truth become error because nobody sees it."
-Mahatma Gandhi
Segal's Law:
A man with a watch knows what time it is. A man with two watches is never sure.
"Well, art is art, isn't it? Still, on the other hand, water is water! And East is East and West is West and if you take cranberries and stew them like applesauce they taste more like prunes than a rhubarb does. Now, uh... Now you tell me what you know."
-Groucho Marx

~ Tuesday, December 02, 2003 ~

My "Made in California" label is showing.
This morning, while walking to school down Central Park West, I noticed small white granules in the cracks between the cobblestones. "What's this white stuff?" thought I. "I don't understand." I looked about, and didn't see any snow. Could they be sprinkling salt on the ground in preparation for future snow? Then, as the little granules disappeared as I walked further south, I realized...oh. That is snow. I spent the rest of the walk grinning like an idiot. I know, I know, but...snow! Later, I watched a brief but charming demonstration of the snowish equivalent of drizzling, which was lovely to see from the Beit Midrash window on the ninth floor, while leaning over the radiator that lives in the bookshelves. The pieces were so tiny and fluffy! For my excitement, I was teased extensively by Talia, who is from Long Island and is allowed to do that. (Someday she'll come to California and freak out over an earth tremor, and then I shall tease her, too.)

Walking home at the end of the day, I discovered that it wasn't only Talia who's been teasing me. The North Wind has played me for a fool. I've been idling for so long, wondering when New York Winter is going to spring out and attack me with all its ferocity, and for weeks there was nothing but slight teasing chill, highly unusual for November, lulling me into a false security. November was the lion cub who plays with its prey before smacking down its paw and delivering a crushing blow. December is that paw, and today the December wind gave me its finest example of a Crushing Blow. I have been both Crushed and Blown. I couldn't walk two blocks before my legs turned solid and my face shattered into pieces. "Come on, Miriam," I told myself, "you can handle a little cold, you're not a wimp!" Apparently, I was wrong about that. I can't handle this. To think that the stealth slush puddles Cheyanne's been telling me so much about haven't even started lurking by the curbs.

Maybe it's time to start wearing a scarf and a hat. Or taking the subway home.

And just to prove this isn't entirely empty whining, the temperature today, according to Yahoo, was 26 degrees F., but here in New York we have Winter Version 10.2, Now With Added WindChill, making it feel like 14 F. Yow.

Unrelatedly, I find I'm missing Dickens Fair quite a bit these days. Yeah, I know, complain about the New York Winter and ache for the Imitation London Christmas. What can I say? I am no Platonist. The Beautiful Lie dazzles me.

[On the offchance that you haven't heard, it tickles me no end that Ophelia Fezziwig made it into the publicity shots, turtle slippers and all. If you already know this and don't wish to hear about it again, don't read this paragraph.]

Current Music: Take a Dance, Bare Necessities

~ prattled by Miriam at 9:51 p.m. [+]

* * *
Comments: Post a Comment

This page is 

powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?