seventeen below coney

it's cold. headed to the pool in the snowy pre-dawn, relaxed but muscle-tired from three days in a row of chilly, chilly swims at brighton-- one snowfilled beachwhite silver-laminated frigidip on the last day of 2009, just in time to catch the lowest point of the week, 34.5 fahrenheit, and feel the taut tendons twitch in my hands as I pulled, like vibrating steel strings; then a joyously warmer jetty-jaunt on the first day of 2010; today, a chill wind whipped cold icedroplets into my face-- pellets ricocheting off my blue swede goggles-- and a frigidair wind made me want to stay in, anything but get back up there in the sandstorm and flurries on the beach. thankfully, it'll be summer in the southern hemisphere...