peevish mama

For now, anyway. We’re in a bone deep freeze here in Minnesota, and have been for over a week now. It’s the kind of cold that seriously roughs you up when you dare step outside. It smacks your cheeks, takes a punch at your chest, and then frisks your entire body with icy fingers – a cheeky bully trying to find a way in, past the layers of goose down, fleece and wool. The only good thing I can say about this kind of sustained cold is that when it finally breaks, ten degrees, twenty degrees suddenly feels like open coat weather. As the days grow longer by barely perceptible increments, scarves will hang loosely around impervious necks, gloves will be stuffed into coat pockets, and jackets will litter the edges of outdoor ice rinks as we go about our business in the kind of weather that would keep most reasonable people inside clutching mugs of tea. We may cringe and scurry now, but our blood thickens, our flesh adjusts, we set our jaws until we’re able to take a swipe back at old man winter – beating the dirty bastard at his own game with the fire in our bellies. We are warriors and we know our time is nigh. Bam. Pow. Thwack. Aaarghhh. 

Of course the SIX gallons of WHOLE milk that I bought by accident (don’t ask) should help matters. Have you had whole milk on your cereal lately? It’s freakin’ delicioso. Bring on the winter blubber. KAPOW!

And Happy Birthday to my dad, Lelo, who today is 65 and fabulous! How many guys do you know who can do this – at any age?