Cold with a chance of frigid

Turned cold overnight with showers. But thankfully it wasn't cold enough for snow. If you were blind today it would have seemed like snow. It seemed cold enough, the air smelled of snow (no I have no idea how to explain what snow smells like) and the spitting rain would make you believe it was snow if you couldn't see it was only rain.

I haven't consulted my 2008 Farmer's Almanac about weather in December yet. I can't find it, in fact. I imagine it is somewhere here. I would like to know what the weather is supposed to be like on December 13 & 14. Todd and I are in the early stages of planning a bike ride around Washington, DC. We would either go up early Saturday or late Friday evening, park at a motel not too far from a metro station, ride our bikes to the metro and ride the metro into a place to hop off and onto a couple of trails. One on Saturday and one on Sunday. Right now I am leaning towards riding the Mount Vernon route on Saturday and the Great Washington Loop route on Sunday. The MV route is about 18 miles long and goes through the heart of Old Town Alexandria. It is not a circuitous route, however. The GWL route is 30 miles long, but circular, ending where it started. There are metro stations near both routes so we could quit when we felt like it.

The weather in Washington DC in the middle of December can be at either extreme. I can't get my bike into 4 wheel drive so snow would not be a pleasant choice. And actually anything below about 45 would be colder than I have stamina to ride in. I don't have complete turn by turn instructions for the MV route, but I do on the GWL route. It utilizes some city streets and some city alleys as well as unpaved trails. Looks challenging.

Once again I have to put on my manager demeanor tomorrow and explain what I and the store expects of our employees. I am dealing with one, two or all three of three possible situations. Either we are getting lazy, getting hard headed and want to do things our own way, or just don't give a horses patoot. Thank you Colonel Potter.

I have to begin with myself, of course. I can't expect others to do what I am not willing to do. But there are quite a lot of things I alone am responsible for in the department. And in order to have adequate time for those duties I have to ask the others to do more than an equal share of the work all of us can do. Makes sense to me. You don't need to bother telling me it doesn't make sense to you. It will be OK. I trust me and I know you are sure that I know what I mean. And that may be the only reality necessary.

Sitting here contemplating how cold it is going to be for a while I find myself sorely jealous of Barbara down there in Miraflores just outside of Lima, sitting on her balcony high above the city overlooking the Pacific Ocean as summertime comes with clear skies and nearly equatorial temperatures. I would love to go spend time on her balcony as well, but may not get to. I did get to sit on her former balcony but it was only a second story and the people going by on the street must have figured me for a stuck up American because I had no idea how to answer their very friendly greetings. I just waved and didn't say anything. I hope my wave looked friendly. I did smile and got a few smiles back. Nice people. Anyway, I hope to not dwell on the image of her basking in the sun while I am scraping my truck windows this winter.

The outside temperate has dropped 3 degrees since I started writing this. Not that I can type fast anymore. My poor left hand only has one finger doing all the work. Reminds me of another situation I know about. Oh, sorry. I didn't really say that did I?

I went to Stuarts Draft this evening after dark and passed a road that always brings back a singular image to my mind. And I wonder if I'll ever totally get over it. There are memories stuck in my brain from a number of events. I can still see and smell my grandmother pulling a cherry pie out of her ancient oven when I was about 8 or 10. I can remember how my glasses steamed up so I couldn't see at all walking from the cold outside into Jim's Coney Island hot dog stand behind the Chevrolet dealership just two blocks from school. I can remember playing football in the Talbot's backyard in Morgantown WV and getting beat up so bad I could hardly drive back to Baltimore. And way back in the recesses I can remember my dad's parents, grandma cat and grandpa cat, living above Dumham's grocery store during one of the very few times grandpa cat was sober enough to stay home and the amazing number of stairs it required us to climb to get into their apartment in Okmulgee.

If grandma cat seems strange to you, you might not know my last name. Trust me, it was a natural.