Today is ditto the weather of the last few days: cold and damp with a dusting of snow.  February is just not a pleasant month, and I’ll be glad to see it leave tomorrow. March gives me a little hope. It makes me think warmer weather is on its way. I’m probably delusional.

I do think the cold is easier to deal with than the heat. I can put on heavier socks, matching or not, a sweatshirt, turn the thermostat up just a bit and snuggle in a afghan. In the heat of the summer, I curse while trying to find the slightest breeze on the deck. I do turn on my bedroom air conditioner and make that room summer central, but I miss the TV, access to the fridge, cold drinks and a comfy chair. A couple of times I went to the movies to sit in air-conditioned comfort to eat my Sno-caps. Last summer was so brutally hot I finally took the step of adding central air. It must be an age thing. The heat seldom bothered me as much as it does now. I think it made me crotchety.

When I was in Morocco, the weather was perfect for walking around: in the 50’s most days. The Moroccans wore heavy sweaters and even winter coats. In Ghana, during the harmattan, the nights were chilly but only in comparison to the heat of every day. My students wore sweaters and hats. I think it was in the 70’s. Everything is relative.

I have become addicted to An Idiot Abroad on the Science Channel. Karl Pilkington gets sent around the world to see the seven wonders. The gimmick is it’s Ricky Gervaise doing the sending, and he sends Karl on the most circuitous routes to each wonder and each route is meant to make Karl uncomfortable in some way. Karl gives us his observations, and I laugh right out loud. He does not want to travel the world, and he is generally miserable. He sits on his camel and complains about squashed testicles. In China he says it’s not a Great Wall but an all right wall and he rides miles and miles across the desert to get to Petra all the while complaining about the sand and the camel. On the way he stays with Bedouins and has sheep’s head for dinner. I can’t tell you what’s so funny. You just have to watch. Karl is miserable, and I never tire of hearing his observations which are actually pretty honest. He is no ugly Brit abroad. Last night he went to Brazil, and I have yet to watch it. I can hardly wait.