Tuesday, December 18, 2012

This Can't Be Winter?

Across the northern hemisphere, ski boots, parkas, hats and gloves are coming out of closets and storage bags.  Having experienced a variety of winters and noticing that December is half way behind us, I'm taking a more critical look into the San Francisco winter.

I used one of my under graduate elective courses to study weather.  Yep...weather. Go Jackets!  Based on that experience, I do confidently declare the correlation and causation between latitude and seasonal
temperatures.  Money well spent, indeed!

Having spent no less than four seasons in various regions of the eastern seaboard, my interrogation of winter will begin using the popular financial forecasting method of...guessing (otherwise known as observing comparables).

San Francisco’s latitude places it somewhere north of the Richmond and south of the DC domiciles.
  • Washington, DC 38°53′42.4″N
  • San Francisco, CA 37°47′N
  • Richmond, VA 37°32′27.5″N
For those playing along at home, San Francisco is roughly 400 miles further south than Bostonia.  As luck may have it, San Francisco experiences both warmer temperatures and smaller temperature variations.



Winter in DC is an interesting beast.  The daily highs are above freezing and the nightly lows below.  Throw some moisture in the mix and it all makes for an wintery icy mess.



It was the winter at RMC that taught me the true meaning of 100 miles.  In Ashland (10 miles north of
Richmond), snow is rare.  I recall one of the annual snowstorms…er, dustings.  I barely knew how to react when one of our friends confessed that it was their first experience of snow!  Of course,
classes were cancelled the following day.  It was then that I learned that the county didn’t own a single snow plow.  Huh?!


And then there’s San Francisco.  No snow, no ice, no sub-zero temps.  Not too bad, eh?  This is the first January since Jake joined us that I don’t need to put on snowboard pants to go on the night walk.  What a relief!

Conclusion: grab your clubs and catch me if you can.


Sunday, December 2, 2012

Maggie Mo

During November each year, Movember is responsible for the sprouting of mustaches on thousands of men’s faces. With their Mo's, men raise vital awareness and funds for men's health issues, specifically prostate and testicular cancer initiatives.

While being a donor in years past, I decided to take it to the next level this time around.  The rules are simple:
  1. start clean shaven on November 1st and then...let it grow, let it grow, let it grow
  2. it has to be a mustache - no goatee, beard, or other wannabe 'stache
In all honesty, I've bent the second rule a bit.  I've permitted the growth of some chin music to help balance out the creepy.  I still look like I belong on the set of Pirates of the Caribbean.

In the past, I've let my beard grow out; it looks deep-dark red when I do.  I was really surprised when my mustache went from orange to a shade of blond that looked undetectable against my skin from afar yet extraordinarily creepy when close.  It was during this transition that Ali initiated the "Countdown to 12/1."

Thus, Maggie Mo (a.k.a. Magnificent Mustache) reached the pinnacle of mustachery at 11am yesterday.  When asked for a quote, I exclaimed, "I can't stop petting my face."  And then...it was all over.  I don't have many pictures because wifey doesn't want to remember my journey.  She did, however, top my list of donors - which makes her my #1 Mo Sista'.

I suppose I'll have to take fund raising a bit more seriously next year.  BUT, if you're feeling too wealthy, click over to my Mo-Space and make a $10 donation to the charity.  Thanks to my supporters!

Saturday, December 1, 2012

Unchartered Territory

I got a haircut on Friday.

The barber trimmed a portion of my cranium that has never required cleaning before.  What was going on?  Why are the scissors resting so high on my dome-piece ?

Then, just as I looked into the mirror and established a visual, it hit me: he was leveling the remaining hairs which stood in a battlefield who's victor had been determined many years ago.  He mowed those poor innocent hairs down, as if to say, "let's make it official."


Alas, all is not lost.  Mom's Dad had a full head of hair into his 90's.  Keep fighting the good fight!