I really believed that I couldn't go outside if the temperature was below 32 degrees-- that I would instantaneously frost-blossom into an ice cube. Turns out I was wrong about that, and in fact 35 degrees has come to feel toasty warm-- if there's no wind. I told my California friend, Laura, that it was in the mid-30s here yesterday, and I felt warm enough to take Buckaroo to the park. She said I was out of my ever-lovin' mind.
Sweet Potato is keeping a sharp eye on the lake, waiting for the freeze. One morning this week she walked down the path to wait for her ride to the bus and came rushing back inside, "The lake has ice on it!" she squealed. As I was still sleeping, I was not quite so thrilled with the information and groggily told her she was going to miss her ride.
When she returned home that afternoon I gave her a long lecture about never going out on the ice alone.
This morning it looks like it may have snowed during the night and the lake has about an inch of ice on it. I feel sorry for those poor fish; that's gotta be a rough life. If I were a fish, I'd want to live in Hawaii. Also, if I were homeless-- or at least I'd pile my kids in a wagon and hitchhike to Florida. Then I'd join a church. These are the crazy things I think about, but it's good to have a plan, right? I also have a whole plan for what to do if I fall through the ice, but that's another post.
As a human home owner, though, I seem to be acclimatizing myself (and I just learned that word). I don't always need the thermostat set at 71 now and most days set it at 69. Baby steps. I should add that our wood pellet stove warms the house to about 65, so I'm really only use the furnace to bridge those few degrees.
Other tidbits: Yesterday I told my friends that Sweet Potato had a minimum day at school, and they all looked at me like I'd said she had a Flooferflaggen. "What's a minimum day?" one mama asked. "Is that the same as a short day?" asked another. Apparently it is the same as a short day. R says it was called "half day" when he was in school.
The gas station people here have removed that little lever that allows one to pump gas no-handed. You know, you push down the lever and let the gas pump while you run inside the store and use the restroom or make monkey faces at your grumpy toddler through the window. I can't imagine why they would remove this handy device. At least it's not like Oregon where all the gas stations are full-service and then one feels required to tip.
Kidlet news: Sweet Potato has become quite sporty at school, she tells us. They played soccer in gym, and she played so well on defense that the team captain said, "You should play forward!" A few days later she captured the flag in a rousing game of the same name. This is the same girl who cried hysterically and clung to my leg the first time she was guided toward the soccer field. Wonders.
We've booked Sweet Potato's first solo flight to California for Thanskgiving weekend. I'm just not going to worry about that.
Buckaroo is speaking sentences. His favorites are: "I like it!", "I did it!" and "I didn't" which really means, "I would prefer not to do that thing you are asking of me, Mother. Thank you anyway."
Grown up news: R is very happy at his new job and testing all kinds of brand new technology. Buckaroo and I are making an effort to drive down there once every two weeks to meet R for lunch. The office is near Whole Foods and Trader Joe's, so it's a multi-purpose trip.
I have invented a new drink for myself. It's decaf chai vanilla tea (hot) with egg nog instead of cream and sugar. Oh, how I love a nog! Maybe that's why I feel warmer.