There's no other word for it out there today. -30 with the windchill factored in. Thank goodness things will heat up by Friday because by then we'll all have cabin fever something fierce! I'm supposed to meet a friend for a walk on Thursday when temps should be in the teens. While 19 degrees is bracing weather to take a walk in, I'll probably be ready to head outside by then. Even 10 degrees isn't so bad if there's no wind.
The Momvan's doors are slow and groaning when we pull them open. Poor Jax paces in the house, but there's no chance that dog is heading outside for more than a quick bathroom break. We sprint from door to vehicle to door bundled in full winter gear. January is when winter becomes trying.
I'm burying myself in layers of sweatshirts and blankets. I'm hiding in the pages of a book, smothering the chill in my belly with coffee and tea.
I mentioned Nina's beautiful poetry collection yesterday--She Wouldn't Sing at My Wedding. Nina's a world traveler who writes a lot about the Mediterranean coastline--a setting that always warms my imagination: "a coppice of sultry summer and storm, like the underside of olive leaves in Isola di Capo Rizzuto." Anyplace with sunshine and olive trees sounds real nice to me today! Throw in sexy sounding Italian names and phrases, a glass of local vino and some good bread--who's with me? I'm giving away one copy of Nina's book to a lucky reader--each comment in the comment box through Saturday is a chance to win.
Spill it, reader. Today's prompt is: where do you fantasize about heading when the weather gets wicked cold?
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