Baby, It's Cold Outside!

I know what you're thinking. You're thinking, "Wow, Miss I, you have become quite the wimpo since you have moved from the rugged Rocky Mountains up to the pansy Pacific Northwest." I say, "It's cold!" You say, "Where's the snow?! Not even a flake of snow has fallen in Seattle and you are crying 'Cold!' "My hands are cold.' It's a sad, sad display." I hang my head and say, "You just don't understand. It's really cold. I feel it in my bones." But I can still tell you don't believe me. I didn't believe it either. Babies. The lot of them. I mean, the city shuts down when it snows, for goodness sake! I was a cynical, cynical sturdy Idaho girl, who grew up in drifts that towered over her head; blizzards that lasted for years; and hypothermia was considered a basic human right. So, I scoffed when I heard that winters were cold up here. It took me a couple of winters here to understand one very important thing: the difference between wet cold and dry cold is profound. It is 24 degrees here with 41% humidity. I mean, that goes straight to your bones! (where else is it going to go!) Don't let that blue sky fool you, or my sad attempt to capture my frosty breath exhalations on camera. It's cold. (just look at the embarrassing red nose to prove it.) Good. I know see you are starting to understand me. I walk around looking like Grover from Sesame Street just trying to keep warm. It's the truth! These terrycloth gloves are my saving grace. My wonderful bastion from the cold. Marms bought them last year for Christmas and I love them. Love them! Imagine how cold it has to be if I risk my fashionable reputation to be easily mistaken for a talking puppet. If you imagined it would have to be pretty cold, you're right.

Now that we are on the subject, I do want to address something else closely related: Christmas in Seattle. Believe me, things freeze (see the frozen fountain at the mall that I snapped yesterday as more evidence of the vast cold front that has gripped Seattle), but it doesn't snow, and frankly it's difficult to really believe it is Christmas without the snow--our local Candy Cane lane just seems kinda tacky and awkward without that mandatory blanket of white that hides cords and ropes. With one sprinkle of white, a series of homes trimmed with christmas decorations are transformed from an gaudy strip mall display into a magical, festive parade. Last year this same strech of road, Candy Cane Lane, was magical. Last night, it just felt out of place. Maybe I just miss home and my complaint has nothing to do with the snow.