I spend the summer months dodging the southern heat, adjusting the thermostat and standing over the A/C vent. I spend the summer months shamelessly sending my husband to the kids' swim meets so that I don't have to feel the sweat trickling down my back. I don't believe in outdoor camps when the weather consistently tops 90 degrees. Instead, I bring the kids to the pool where I try to sit, motionless, as they run and jump and play. This is my southern summer. There. I have said my piece.
Today, therefore, when the thermometer topped out at a mere 58 degrees, I didn't complain.
Toto, we're not in The South anymore! This is the land of my youth. This is the land where my forefathers, who once inhabited the Arctic Circle, decided to settle. This is my home.
OK, so I didn't grow up in a barn, but I did pass this freshly painted beauty while walking in the brisk morning air!
And as the locals complained about the unusually cold temperatures, I just smiled to myself, took a deep, deep breath of the cool, crisp air......
and counted my blessings.