Advice from an 80-Year Old

Let's talk about the weather, shall we?

Yesterday, it rained buckets all day long, but the temperature was perfectly tolerable: mid to upper '60s. I walked 4 1/2 miles under an umbrella without a complaint, enjoying the humid air.

But I got back to an e-mail saying, "I hope you are well on this dreary day. As an 80-year old friend of mine says, it's one for either good books or bad boys." Perhaps unfortunately, I partook of neither, but I also wasn't thinking it was dreary, just raining.

Last night, I inquired about someone's day only to be told, "It was a day for hunkering down and staying in." How come I didn't get this memo?

The heat pump in my apartment died some time Sunday while I was out and about, but the bottom line was I had no heat when I got home that night. First thing Monday, I called my repair guy who determined it was a fuse. Easily fixed, but then it blew again.

So I had no heat the last two nights which wasn't a problem with enough layers on my bed, but it also took all of today to ascertain the problem and get it fixed. What that meant was a whole lot of sitting around waiting for the repair guys to have access to and work in my apartment.

Knowing it was barely above freezing, you'd think I'd have relished a day inside (albeit with no heat but lots of sweaters) and used it as a legitimate excuse to hunker down. I tried that and failed miserably.

Finally, around 4 this afternoon, I told the guys I needed to escape my apartment. They warned me it was cold outside and I went anyway.

Oh, it was cold, but it was also just what I needed. I only walked a couple of miles because I needed to be back before they finished so my house wouldn't be left unlocked, but it was so worth it.

"You out exercising, are you?" a bundled up older man asked as I sailed past. "You're looking good, looking good." Forget that, I was feeling good after a day cooped up indoors. Clearly I need a good amount of fresh air everyday.

I'm not even sure good books and bad boys could have been as satisfying as finally getting out.

Hunkering down is over-rated. That said, working heat is not.

Admiring the Wind from Above

Like mailmen, neither snow nor rain nor heat usually keep me from my daily walk, but today's 20+ mile-per-hour wind was seriously discouraging, to say the least. I kept putting it off and finally mid-afternoon realized that if I didn't go soon, I wasn't going.

So I went, but walked east instead of my usual west. As I was waiting at the corner of Seventh and Marshall, a guy looked at me and nodded. Not entirely sure what he meant, I said, "This wind couldn't be much worse!"

Pulling aside his scarf, he grinned and pointed to nearby City Hall. "Sure it could," he said. ""Bet it's a whole lot worse up there."

So don't you just know I had to march myself up there to find out? I took the elevator to the Observation Deck, along with a couple of city employees who must have wanted to escape their offices pretty badly because they didn't have coats on.

And it was incredibly cold and windy up there and I'm saying that as someone who was dressed for the weather. But it was beautiful, too; every rooftop flag was at full attention, plumes of smoke made horizontal white lines across the sky and the river looked one step removed from a sheet of ice.

The gift of it was that when I got back down to the street, the wind felt as gentle as a summer breeze in comparison. And as the handsome Martin taught me a few years back, perception is reality.

It was a lovely walk home. I don't know why it took me so long to get going in the first place.

These Clothes are Staying On

I know I get cold more easily than 98% of the population.

When I go in a restaurant and the hostess points out the coat rack, I smile politely and keep my coat.

A musician friend posted a picture of me at a show at the Camel and I have a sweater across my legs and my big muffler still on; the people around me are dressed normally.

Apparently I have no blood.

Even so, it's cold outside today by anyone's estimation.

There's a wind advisory, it's gusting to 30 mph and it feels like 20 degrees.

Going out to walk the dog, I was bundled up like a kid in a snowsuit, arms akimbo, scarf covering half my face.

And here's a guy on my street shoveling snow in a short-sleeved T-shirt.

I couldn't stop myself. "You have to be cold, right?" I asked with a smile.

He looks at me with dead eyes, no expression and says, "It's not cold out here."

Well, okay then, the beagle and I will just move along.

Around the corner, we see a guy clearing off his car wearing shorts and no socks.

As he flings the snow, I see a flurry hit his bare legs. I cringe for him and ask why he's wearing shorts.

"All my jeans are dirty," he explains. Because, you know, clean clothes are essential for snow removal.

We did talk to one halfway sane soul who was dressed appropriately for the snow.

A guy biking down the street said hi and mentioned how challenging it was biking in this mess.

I offered my empathy for his situation, but he laughed it off. "I got my snow tires on, sweet baby," he assured me. "I'm good."

Me, I'm cold out there with that wind blowing over the ice and snow.

Even with four layers on top, a coat, two layers on bottom, two pairs of socks and two pairs of gloves, it's not enough.

 My first choice for relief would be shared body heat.

Barring that, I'm at least going to spend the afternoon inside and away from this wind.

And I'll take off the coat and gloves, but the rest stays on.

Luckily, no one will be taking a picture of me to post this time.

Take Her Wheels. She's Got Legs.

One of the reasons I love living in the city is so I can walk to most of my necessary and pleasurable destinations.

So with my car in the shop for two full days, I've been walking everywhere while I'm car-less.

Every time I take my car into my mechanic Curtis, he reminds me what great cars Nissan Altimas are.

He says they're well-built and reliable and I shouldn't begrudge my 9 1/2 -year old vehicle with 119,000 miles on it the occasional mechanical malfunction.

But when the car's needs are being addressed and it's friggin' freezing (or more accurately, below friggin' freezing) I am naturally more inclined to choose a nearby restaurant, the sooner to get to the warmth.

Of course, seeing a couple in shorts out jogging on my way over sent an additional chill through my body, but, hey, more power to them and their frigid little bodies.

All this is just a prelude as to why I ended up at 27 for dinner yet again.

The fact is, the food never disappointments, the staff knows me all too well and there are almost always other bar sitters for companionship during my meal.

It's hard to resist soup in this weather and the Three Bean with Chorizo was everything I could hope for in a large bowl.

Add to that the crusty bread and red pepper dipping oil and I was a happy camper and quite full afterwards.

I used my Malbec/Shiraz blend to bridge the gap until I was ready for dessert. After much deliberation, I ordered the mixed berries served in a chocolate cup with Zabaglione.

I've loved this dessert since first having it at Amici back in the 90s.

Truly, I wanted to lick the plate (but restrained myself).

The entire staff was hungover from Chef Carlos' birthday party the night before and looked it.

I was thrilled to hear the restaurant's soundtrack had finally changed with the addition of four Beatles compilations, replacing the ancient mix that the staff and I had long ago memorized.

Love, love me do.

One of the servers rushed over to tell me that he was waiting on a couple of gay lobbyists on the other side who, when asked what they wanted for dessert, replied, "The chocolate gelato and the raspberry sorbet.

And you and the bartender on top of our table." I think there should be an extra charge for that.

Coincidentally, the bar diner two stools down had already brought up the topic of RVA's gay bar scene and its weaknesses.

He expressed a desire for the day when there is no distinction between bars based on sexuality.

It's a lofty goal, but I hope he doesn't hold his breath.

You must admit, a person doesn't need a car with such terrific food and entertainment value within a short chilly walk.

And I'm not foolish enough to wear shorts to get there, either.