I know I'm breaking my self-imposed hiatus by putting this post up, but I have two very good reasons for doing it:

1. I f***ing hate my stupid hiatus.
2. I'm stuck inside today. Freezing rain and a lack of proper environmental gear has kept me inside.

So that's why I'm letting myself break the hiatus. I deserve it. I can't do much of anything else, so I might as well write.

That said, even writing is a little tough when you're apartment's so freaking cold that the ice on the window sill is actually collecting on the inside:

Well insulated apartment? I think not.

Anyway, I'm not writing this post just to tell you that it's cold. You could figure that out by turning on the Weather Channel, although the news would be delivered by a total dork instead of yours truly, so maybe you'd prefer to get your meteorological information here, but that's not the point.

This post has to do with the weather, but it isn't about the weather.

Rather than being about the weather, this post is about people.

As I've been sitting here, staring out the window that I really wish would close all the way, I've been watching people walk by.

Not normal people, mind you.

These people are Snow Nerds.

You see, Portland gets cold for about three days each year. I know this because my mom keeps her snow tires on for approximately one-hundred days out of the year, while only getting yelled at by angry road-maintaining tax-payers for about ninety-five of those days (fortunately, she only gets her tires slashed every three years or so (although I can't blame someone for wanting to slash her snow tires in June)). That gives us a five day difference, which is enough to account for the three days of cold, bad weather, and two "buffer" days during which people are willing to accept that she's tearing up a perfectly clear road with her spiked tires.

For a group of people around here (which includes my mum), these three days present a problem. For others, it's a Vinter freaking vunderland.

Snow Nerds love it when we finally get bad weather dumped on us. I've been watching them walk by. They're dressed to the icy nines in all sorts of really expensive waterproof clothing items. Goggles, ginormous boots, and face masks are de rigueur. Most of these people look like they're probably training for some top secret NASA moon mission, although they're obviously blowing their top secret cover by walking around in broad daylight in their getups.

The great thing is that they aren't actually out for any real reason. I watched one guy just walk back and forth, up and down the street for about twenty minutes. I know what was going on, too: He was savoring each step, thinking about how wonderful it was that he could venture out into the unfriendly elements and survive to accomplish so much walking while remaining so comfortable. Although I couldn't see his face through the WWIII Mad Max style face/head gear, I sensed that there must have been a look of great pride on his visage as he raised his fist to Mother Nature and challenged her to "bring it on."

The Truck Nerds are out, too.

These are the guys who don't just buy the mini-van-esque SUVs that we see everywhere. Oh, no - they've got these giant mobile apartments jacked up on pressurized stilts that almost always, for reasons I could comprehend but would rather not, have what appear to be battering rams welded onto the front:

Perfect for crushing humans

Once you hit this stage, you no longer own what can conventionally be referred to as a "truck" - I've known some guys who have owned such vehicles, and they prefer to call them "rigs."

When it starts snowing, these guys immediately take to the streets and begin patrolling. I'm not exactly sure what they're doing, but I get the feeling that half of them are looking for people to rescue who have gotten their Hyundais with four bald tires stuck in various ditches, while the other half probably just sees this as a good opportunity to be able to go out, kill people, and get away with it (with "Dueling Banjos" blaring on the stereo, of course).

They take pride in the power lent them by having affixed "wenches" to their "rigs" so that they can pull people like me back onto the road and then set us on our way with a mild admonishment and a warning that "You shouldn't be out her in a ve-hick-ull like that. This weather's for the big boys." In other words, if you don't know what a "three-quarter-inch chrome-reverse muffler bearing" is (say it quickly with a drawl), then these guys don't want to see you on the street.

Although, as I also mentioned, some of them also just want to kill people like me.

One half of the crowd is in possession of a misplaced sense of condescending heroism, while the other is acting, well, just the way we expect hicks to act.

I must say that I really enjoy Portland's three days of bum weather. What a priceless opportunity for field work in anthropology.

After writing all of this, though, something came to mind. I'm sitting here with three laptops, three towers, three web cams (who in the hell needs three web cams? isn't two enough?) three PDAs, and just about every other geek gadget under the sun.

I must admit: When it comes to owning something which in quality and/or quantity greatly surpasses the need that I might have for that thing, then I'm no better than the people who drive around in house-crushing trucks while wearing clothing that would probably keep them alive on Mars.

Oh, Life. Must the lessons you teach be so harsh? Even when I think I am mocking the ways of others in safety, it turns out in the end that I have not but mocked myself (and all my friends). The irony! Oh, the harsh, harsh irony!

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a blogging hiatus to attend to...