I swear I saw a polar bear romping through my front yard. He was enjoying the snow and the cold though saying it is cold is an understatement. It is frigid. The days are mostly bearable, but the nights are down to single digits. Tomorrow will be the coldest, 17° during the day and -2 at night. Sunday will be a snowy day, and the cape could get the most. The wind will blow 40-60 miles per hour causing blizzard conditions. I really should have hibernated.

Today is a pretty day. I’m thinking it might be an apology from Mother Nature for what is to come. We have a blue sky and sun. A slight breeze moves a few dead leaves on the low branches and on the bare branches up high. The dogs are napping from the trauma of having to go out earlier. They are comfy.

When I was a little kid, the weather didn’t matter all that much. Life didn’t change. We walked to school in the rain, the snow and the cold. We walked fastest in the cold despite wearing layer upon layer of warm clothing starting with a sweater over my uniform then moving on to heavier clothing and finally my winter jacket. I complained and moaned a little as my mother was dressing me. I declined the hat. My mother just looked at me. Her face said NO in capital letters.

When I lived in Ghana, it was the heat. This time of year is the hottest, but it is a dry heat, a bearable heat even at 100°. I always wore a dress anyway as it was the custom of the times, but I didn’t mind. Dresses were the coolest clothes, as in temperature, not style. I took my cold shower every night, didn’t dry myself, threw on my ugly shower robe of sorts and rushed into the house and to bed before I dried so I could fall asleep feeling pseudo cool.

My dance card is empty except for a couple of errands I’ll do tomorrow. I will be a sloth today, the best sloth ever.