About that cold weather

Katherine decided on Saturday that she and Jack had been cooped up indoors long enough and it was time to get out and get some fresh air, damn't!

But it was cold.

Thus...

Note the cones in the road behind me. Businesses take over swaths of parking spots by placing cones or crowd control gates in front of their stores with a guy guarding them, removing them only after ascertaining whether the driver plans to visit the business in question. The salon next door to our building takes up major space.

One day there was nowhere else to park so I attempted to park in one of the 'coned' areas. The guy assigned to not allow me to do so came out waving me off. I parked, stepped out and inquired whether he was the owner of that part of the road. No, he said, but the salon had a contract that allowed them to block off the road.

Go get it, I said, I want to see it. He went inside and brought out some document in Ukrainian with an official-looking stamps. As an aside, we see fake documents with official-looking stamps daily in the consular section. I was, therefore, underwhelmed by the document. I told him I'd need a copy as I don't read Ukrainian, and would be bringing it to work so a co-worker could find the name of the city official giving out sole-use rights to public roadways and sidewalks. I said I was interested in getting my own parking spot on the street, and needed to know who to call.

At that point he said he couldn't make a copy without his director's say so. Fine, I said, I'll see you tomorrow.

The next day I asked him if he had my copy. No, unfortunately the director was very busy and he hadn't had time to ask. But, he said, we could work something out without bothering his director. If I came to park close to 6:00 pm, he'd let me park in one of his slots. Very noble of him. But it has been useful.

At some point we plan to get all of our neighbors together and take up all their parking spots on a Sunday when they are closed and leave our cars there for the week.

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Katherine and I have had a running battle about when to give Jack his first haircut. I was pushing for later on the assumption that, like Samson, he derives his strength from his flowing locks.

Yesterday, I finally gave in.

The before...

A friend said that the bathtub was as good a place as any. Plus, his hair would already be wet. It was harder than we thought. He's a bit squirmy, and was interesting in watching the shiny scissors as they descended on him rather than sitting quietly staring straight ahead.


The end result. Not quite straight, but not bad.