Posted by: Jamie Stamm | September 26, 2008

Iceland?

Having lived the first 18 years of my life in Pennsylvania, you might think that I would be pretty tolerant of cold weather. But since moving to North Carolina back in 1993, I have lost all ability to deal with cold – OK, even cool – temperatures.

If I get in my car in the morning and the temperature on my dash reads less than 60 degrees, I crank up the heat. I’ve already pulled my winter clothing from storage, and it’s only September, and this afternoon, I had to warm myself up with mugs full of hot chocolate and tea. Plus, last night, I added a second quilt to the bed.

And I’m not even the worst in my family. From October on, my mom is likely to be found curled up under an electric blanket or indulging in an hours-long soak in her hot tub.

Mom and I have passed our intolerance of cold weather on to Cera, who pretty much stops asking to play outside once the temperature falls into the 50s. So today, with a misty rain falling, the wind whipping and fall-like weather dominating, she wasn’t too happy about having to go to soccer.

“It feels like we’re in Iceland,” she said as we made the short drive to the practice field.

“Iceland, huh?” I asked.

“Yeah, Mommy,” she said. “Because Iceland is cold. And it’s really cold here, too.”

I can’t wait for winter …

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