I wish I could just stay inside and admire the day through the windows. It is a lovely day. The blue sky is just a bit lighter than cerulean. I don’t see a cloud. As to the temperature, we are possibly heading to record cold. It is 11°. The high will be 14°and the low 4°. More snow is coming. The cape will get more than most of the state. That’s what I’m dreaming of, more snow, said I never.

As I get older, I have come to appreciate the smaller things like a song I love on the radio, kisses from the dogs, thin onion rings, a good burger, red licorice and real Christmas trees. I watch videos of dogs being saved and adopted. I watch the antics of cats. I figure I’m now on the back side of my life, and I want joy and happiness. I wear blinders and ear plugs, the best way I know to get there.

I can hear my furnace constantly blowing. I’m wearing layers in the house. I love that Nala is lying against me keeping me warm or maybe I’m keeping her warm. She is a sly one.

.When I was a kid, my house had a furnace, a big black metal, round furnace on one wall of the cellar. On the same wall, next to the furnace, was a small window a bit bigger than the hose from the oil truck. It was always unlocked. I remember the oilman pulling and dragging the hose from the street to the window to the furnace. I remember the smell of the oil as he pumped. It seemed to fill the house and the cellar. This is an unexpected memory, one which seems to have settled into my memories all by itself. I am often amazed by what is in those memory drawers, by what pops out triggered by something familiar but forgotten. I think the cold is rattling those memory drawers and shaking out old, old memories from the way back, from cold, cold winters when even layering wasn’t enough.

I need to do two errands. I need to brave the cold. I need to layer. My mother taught me well.

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.