2. Stopping to retie my stupid bootlace this morning, I suddenly found a little star on my black boot-top. I was momentarily puzzled, and then realized it was a snowflake. How I've lived to almost 62 without ever seeing a snowflake before, I don't know; but there it is. Usually I suppose the snow is coming down too heavily to isolate individual specimens, and the ones that land on coats tend to melt immediately, or possibly look like fluff to my myopic eyes. But this morning was flurries (considers the tropical readers who may lack snow vocabulary: like the lightest of rain showers-- just a few flakes here or there) and if ever you want to go snowflake watching, that's the time to do it.
3. Since I (re)learned to crochet in mid-November, I've made two neck warmers. One is too narrow to be really effective against December winds, but one is just fine. It's fuchsia and goes with my poofy old rose beret-cap. In spite of these, I still get called 'sir', and by people who ought to know that fuchsia and old rose are gender markers in this society.
As I recall, these two neckwarmers were fast crochets-- well, once I figured what I was doing wrong with the first one, took out half my work and redid it. I've been working on two others since then and neither ever seems close to being finished. One is large, I grant you-- wanted a kind of cowl thing to pull up against the back of my neck-- but the other is the same dimensions as the fuchsia one. But it's a rayon wool, not acrylic, and slides rather more than the others. Maybe that's the problem?
4. Tuesday rained and then turned to sleet and then the temperatures dropped, so of course the world was encased in ice. This is why I hate winter here-- less than an inch of snow will break your ankle if given half a chance. But I walked in the thing and didn't break my ankle-- and did lay down ice melter on the stubbornly unsalted stretches on the street-- so evidently I shall survive this winter as well. At least I didn't have to wear boots once until Dec.28, which is a feat.
5. Speaking of being 62 (in ten days) I was most chuffed when the Japanese mother at work was surprised to learn my age. (This because my standard response to people saying 'Aren't you cold' as I stand around in my tanktop, is 'At 60 you're *never* cold.') 'I thought you were in your 50s.' When a Japanese thinks a gaijin looks younger than their age, trust me, you look young.