The Bostonian Abroad

I'm not really that old, but I feel it sometimes. I feel it when I don't work out for a couple of days and my joints begin to ache and crack. I feel it when I work out and I have stiffness and pain for a few days afterwards. It is especially evident in the lines on my face - though these are still subtle. The grey hairs I am beginning to notice are the final calling card, letting me know that I have passed a milestone. You read all the time about this kind of thing. Movies are made about it. It's a tired, old story about realizing that you are getting older and that youth is going or gone. My rephrasing it is most likely only of interest to me - a sort of middle-aged self-indulgence, but I feel my view on it is worth putting down. In my case, getting older means realizing that the endless wellspring of energy I once had is now not endless. I used to feel that I could go on forever if I wanted to. That whole concept of ferever has changed too. Forever, back when I was younge

February 1st, and the snow was flying! Well, at least, for a few hours. Then it turned to rain, and by the end of the day, my face-down snowman was all that remained of a "winter wonderland." Truth be told, I actually miss getting snow in the winter. To only have cold days, without the beauty brought by the occasional snowfall, makes winter just a grim, sad time, with little to see that makes one feel good inside. Snow, for all its cold, has the effect of making you feel all warm and cosy in your house, curled up in a blanket in front of the fire, drinking cocoa. In North Carolina, everythintg closes, pretty much, because there is nothing substantial to clear away the snow and ice. People are not used to driving in icy conditions, so accidents abound. Northerners complain about the "pussies" down here, but they are too short-sighted. Why spend the mega-bucks required to prepare for a serious winter storm when you only see one every three to five years? It