There are a certain kind of people who relish cold weather. Spending a majority of my life in cold-weather states, I've started to recognize them. They are the women, who I've seen on my daily errands, that are decked out in flip flops, capris and a light jacket. It's only 30 degrees outside; it's not that cold yet.
Or the fact that Jaron's new elementary school wanted to emphasis their recess weather policy. Kids will go outside to play for 20 minutes at recess as long as the temperature is above minus 15 degrees F (yes, minus) as long as there is no ice, or if the wind-chill is above -15 degrees F. That was a negative sign before that number. Negative.
I realized the other day that I fall into this category; you know, of the seriously cold-weather-insane. It was a balmy 20 degrees out. Maybe a tad bit higher; the sun was shinning so that should count for something. I had exhausted get-out-of-the-house entertainment options: shopping, library story time, shopping, running errands, shopping. Can you believe I'm a little sick of shopping? Anyway, I decided I would take the kids for a walk. That walk lead to a 1/2 mile trek to the closest playground where Eliza and Russell ran around and played for 15 minutes while Afton shivered. I thought it was a tiring though enjoyable hour or so. We returned home with rosy cheeks, cold fingers, and a craving for soup and grilled cheese sandwiches.
When I asked Russell if he wanted to go play at the park today and he said, "Let's wait until it's hot!" Russell must be an Oklahoma boy.
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