I celebrated my 38th birthday yesterday in the frozen tundra of Bennington, Vermont, where Wendy and I are currently housed in the lovely Swan Dorm for our second to last residency. Since this is graduate school, we celebrated the old school way: about ten people gathered in our dorm's living room -- which sits just off of our private suite (as the only married couple in the MFA program, they hook us up with a two bedroom with jack-n-jill bathroom, thus making us the only students with a private bath...and the warmest students as well, since we get to have another person in bed with us, which is important since it's fucking freezing here) -- and played hours of drunken charades. Since I also have a head cold, I played drunken/high on Dayquil charades, which suprisingingly made me quite adept at figuring out clues, though also made me feel like someone had kicked me in the face and subbed out my knees for egg noodles. But I'm all about sacrificing for the cause of drunken birthdays buttressed with legal over the counter stimulants.
As usual, Wendy and I are vexed by the idea that we are currently experiencing temperatures that are 100 degrees less than an average summer day in La Quinta. Today, for instance, it was 9 degrees, but felt like 5 degrees, which felt to me like a razor blade. I have once again discovered that snot has a relatively low freezing point and that snow, while pretty, eventually melts on your clothing and then just becomes cold water. Who knew?
The upside, apart from the obvious terminal degree and all that, is that Bennington is positively gorgeous in the winter, as the photo below should attest.