the last saskatchewan pirate sailing off into the sunset? salt on the lips and a net full of fish? three masts, a jib and a whole lot of pollution? nausea?
I see cold. raw, frigid, biting cold. wind piercing through your ski jacket, wool sweater and long underwear cold. the kind of cold that tears at naked skin and sucks the feeling out of those fingers exposed to the elements by stupid photographers who take a moral stance against gloves.
speaking of cold, it has become increasingly apparent to me that few people appreciate the situational appropriateness of cold. when I look out my window and see a foot of snow on the ground, I expect cold. when I swim in the mediterranean in april or lake superior at any time of year, I also expect cold. in these situations it is only appropriate. on the other hand, it is inappropriate for me to lose feeling in my fingers while wearing five shirts and hiking socks to class . it is likewise inappropriate to wear pjs under my pants to dinner, or to have to leave halfway through my piano lesson to dethaw my fingers under the hot water tap. why the vents in sid smith blow cold air in february and my piano teacher has a penchant for open windows I will never fully understand.
I would have assumed that it was all part of a sinister plot to chase me out of canada, if the average indoor temperature back home had been higher than ten degrees south of uncomfortable, and I hadn't been forced to spend christmas break inside a down blanket. alas. my parents are in on it too.