Winter has basically launched into a full court press these days. I sometimes wonder, as my toes lose feeling and a trail of my own frosty breath puffs out behind me in the school hallways, why did I pull up stakes and leave the tundra of a polar-vortexed Wisconsin, move halfway across the world, and end up in a place almost as cold? I could have gone almost anywhere; places of year-long summers that span for generations, where children live and die in green worlds untouched by the frost’s sting or a blizzard’s mirthless smile?
Sorry, that quicklydegraded into some shitty Game of Thrones fan-fiction prose toward the end.
Colin, Ling, and I prepared almost the entire day Saturday for a belated Thanksgiving dinner set for the night. We hosted four other friends in our apartment for a delicious turkey dinner, mostly cooked by Colin, and an assortment of booze that kept us fueled with good cheer well into the morning hours.