Yay! The first frost of the season! Woo-hoo!
I am a freak of nature. I realize this. For a long time I thought of myself as a normal, regular kid. Growing up in Minnesota, I grew accustomed to the thermometer reaching unusual depths at an early age. My elementary school had a rule that unless the air temperature (note: not wind chill, the actual temperature) outside was colder than 40 degrees below zero, we were outside for recess. Since we were holy terrors at the time, I’m certain that rule was bent more than once in an effort to get an hour of free time to rest. In particular I’m pretty sure we drove Mrs. Alliota to drink during recess. Some days when we were not quite at -40° and the teachers kicked us all out to complain about us and chain-smoke, we’d be outside huddled against the leeward side of the building in a vain attempt to preserve body heat until we were allowed back inside. When I saw the huddles masses in March of the Penguins, I totally had flashbacks.
But the side effect of all this is that I grew dependant on the cold to be happy. My perception of hot and cold was irrevocably altered so that I’m perfectly content outside in –30° weather but a pathetic whiner when the mercury hits 75°. Everyone who knows me knows how much I hate being hot. And as global warming spirals ever onward towards massive global heat waves driving humans north where we wage a war for land against polar bears and mutant harp seals in a Beyond Thunderdome-esqe post-apocalyptic existence, I’ll be on the side of the polar bears. Now that I live in Chicago, I miss my six months of winter. People here complain when it gets below 20°. Wussies…
In 40 years or so I just know I’m going to be the cranky old man who goes off about how nobody really knows cold whenever someone mentions it’s “getting a bit chilly”. Then I’ll be put in a home where the nurses will insist on keeping me covered with massive down quilts and away from drafts. Hopefully I’ll have a granddaughter who’ll sneak in ice cream and Popsicles. And then I’ll tell her exciting and wholly concocted stories about serving in the Spanish American War with Teddy Rooseveldt and how I was a member of the Superfriends (but never made it on the show because as Invisible Boy I wasn’t very camera-friendly).
*My other favorites: Happy Wanderer, Climax, Nebish, Coffee Pot Landing, Dumblane, Nimrod, Motley, and Pillager
I am a freak of nature. I realize this. For a long time I thought of myself as a normal, regular kid. Growing up in Minnesota, I grew accustomed to the thermometer reaching unusual depths at an early age. My elementary school had a rule that unless the air temperature (note: not wind chill, the actual temperature) outside was colder than 40 degrees below zero, we were outside for recess. Since we were holy terrors at the time, I’m certain that rule was bent more than once in an effort to get an hour of free time to rest. In particular I’m pretty sure we drove Mrs. Alliota to drink during recess. Some days when we were not quite at -40° and the teachers kicked us all out to complain about us and chain-smoke, we’d be outside huddled against the leeward side of the building in a vain attempt to preserve body heat until we were allowed back inside. When I saw the huddles masses in March of the Penguins, I totally had flashbacks.
But the side effect of all this is that I grew dependant on the cold to be happy. My perception of hot and cold was irrevocably altered so that I’m perfectly content outside in –30° weather but a pathetic whiner when the mercury hits 75°. Everyone who knows me knows how much I hate being hot. And as global warming spirals ever onward towards massive global heat waves driving humans north where we wage a war for land against polar bears and mutant harp seals in a Beyond Thunderdome-esqe post-apocalyptic existence, I’ll be on the side of the polar bears. Now that I live in Chicago, I miss my six months of winter. People here complain when it gets below 20°. Wussies…
In 40 years or so I just know I’m going to be the cranky old man who goes off about how nobody really knows cold whenever someone mentions it’s “getting a bit chilly”. Then I’ll be put in a home where the nurses will insist on keeping me covered with massive down quilts and away from drafts. Hopefully I’ll have a granddaughter who’ll sneak in ice cream and Popsicles. And then I’ll tell her exciting and wholly concocted stories about serving in the Spanish American War with Teddy Rooseveldt and how I was a member of the Superfriends (but never made it on the show because as Invisible Boy I wasn’t very camera-friendly).
*My other favorites: Happy Wanderer, Climax, Nebish, Coffee Pot Landing, Dumblane, Nimrod, Motley, and Pillager
Comments
So...excited...
Winter, I'm less into - I think those years in California softened me a bit.
Now I wear a scarf and gloves when it's 45. How did I become so wussy so fast? Northern California will do that to you I guess