I hear they're picking on us up in Beantown, rank amateurs that we are down here in NYC when it comes to snow removal. We took it on the chin, no doubt about it; as I write, a good day and a half since the white started falling, my Brooklyn block remains unplowed, virgin powder from end to end, except for some tracks down the middle. Things haven't changed much since last night, when a boxer came around doing sprints through the snow exhorted by his trainer: run to the corner, a combination—jab, jab, one, two, three—and then back. [That's him in the picture.] Lucky he didn't keel over, because EMS would still be trying to get here.
We're not completely housebound, fortunately. SF and I did met up for some hand-pulled noodles in Chinatown this afternoon. That hit the spot. Knicks in Miami tonite. Bring on the heat.