Sometimes winter comes on tiptoes and Jack Frost nips at your nose in a sweet, almost romantic sort of way.
Then come the times when winter wears steel-toed boots and Jack Frost smashes your face with a sledgehammer to see how many teeth he can knock out with one blow.
In our little mountaintop town Jack is pissed.
This morning as I headed down the mountain for school it was zero degrees. Yes. Zero. (If you have zero, does “degree” become a singular rather than a plural? Because zero is none. But… we always use “degrees” plural when talking temperature. Hm. I need to stop thinking about this and just move on with the story and the fact this place is blisteringly cold right now.)
That’s a goose egg. That’s exactly 32 degrees below freezing and approximately 74 degrees chillier than I prefer to live my life.
When I drove back up the mountain tonight it was a balmy 8 degrees. We’re making progress. Only 66 more degrees to go!
I’ve been thoroughly enjoying our mountaintop weather, anxiously wondering when the ski slope will open and admiring the stinkin’ cuteness of the ruffians in their snow bibs. But then Jack Frost got all cranky and mean-spirited and now I have to live with it!
Up until today I’ve been thinking I could live in North Dakota or Montana. My education about the states via the SwingVote process made me like them a lot. But now I’ve gotten so cold I need to sit on a heating pad and put warmed rice bags between my toes.
It’s time to reconsider and compare how much colder it must be in those northern states getting all up in Canada’s southern business.
Do you know the major temperature in Montana and North Dakota at this very minute is 35?? Thirty-five degrees, which is 27 degrees warmer than my mountaintop town only about six hours from the Mexican border!
Life is unjust sometimes.
In Mexico they are warm. Not just from tequila shots and multiple shouts of, “Andele!” at random intervals while watching the futbol. They have beaches, hot sauce, and organized crime. Here we have mountains, stalactites masquerading as icicles, and temperatures so cold no one’s teeth can stop chattering long enough to talk through a crime-ridden plan!
Despite the current state of affairs, I still think it’s better to be cold than hot because there are only so many layers of clothing you can take off without being arrested for indecent exposure while you can continue to layer the cuddleduds and warm woolen socks without fear of incarceration for quite a while. (Think little dude on A Christmas Story for my visual.)
Ey-yi-yi. I’ve got to stop typing now because my hands are developing signs of frostbite.
What’s the coldest weather climate you could live comfortably?
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