Oh, my gosh. It is so cold here. Right now it is one below, with a wind chill of twenty-seven below because the wind is wicked crazy. It is SO COLD.
The girls and I went with the neighbors to the Swedish Lutheran church that Pam grew up in tonight. They were having a St. Lucia celebration. We were freezing on the way there -- by the time we left the snow had picked up again and we could hardly see the signs on the road driving home.
And did I mention . . . it is COLD?!?!?!??
I asked tonight if this is typical weather for around here. Pam assured me, no. It doesn't usually get this cold until January. (!!!!!) But another man at the table shook his head and insisted this is pretty typical.
I already bought myself some new gloves and a headwrap. I've started lecturing the girls about zipping up their coats before they're outside and about keeping their gloves in their coat pockets so they always have them. I'm on the verge of purchasing some long underwear.
I always have said that I'd rather move further north than further south. That I'd rather be too cold than too hot. You can always put more clothes on . . . you can't always take enough off. What was I thinking?
My friend Cindy told me she never drank coffee until she moved to Minnesota. There, she told me, the minute you walk into someone's door in the wintertime, someone shoves a cup of hot coffee in your hands . . and you just drink it because it's hot. Maybe I'll be a coffee drinker here soon.
That would be something, cuz I find coffee pretty disgusting right now. Nah. It won't happen. I'll freeze first. Coffee is just gross.
And actually, now that I think of it, I really do prefer this to oppressive heat and humidity. I've been there, too. I'll add on another layer of clothes and keep the laptop on my lap to warm it up. We choose our battles . .
OK, this is off-topic, but I'm remembering one of the funnier things Leslie has ever said . . . once in the car, she and Eastin were arguing and I admonished Leslie to stop picking fights with her sister.
"But you always tell me to pick fights with her!"
"What?!? I tell you NO such thing!!"
"Mom -- you are always telling me: 'Leslie, you have to pick your battles!'"
And the little snit let me get halfway through an explanation of what I meant by that before she started cracking up and revealed that she was making a joke, Mom, come on! Even Eastin had to laugh. At least they stopped arguing.