It’s getting colder out there.
Here in New England, the nights are frosting up windows, and turning the grass and what remains of the flowers and bushes that monochromatic blueish that disappears if the sun deigns to shine.
I’m a layer-er. I have to sit still these chilly days, grading and commenting on student papers and therefore, I tend to have several shirts on a the same time. My darling, beloved, and acerbic husband does not share my predilection toward layered warmth and, as he frolics in a tshirt, is often vocally shocked at how padded I like to be.
It seems my hands are cold when I touch him. You know, UNDER his shirt.
I am neither an insect (is insect sex insex? just wondering…) or a lizard. Just a chilled New Englander with slow blood circulation. I have 8 weeks of this semester to go and then, THEN, I won’t be chained to my desk. Maybe my blood will even circulate.
Now, back to the second in a row paper on gangs…
Everyone loves to hold hands with me at the end of a recovery meeting – they’re always so toasty. I hate to tell them that it’s because of my premature hotflashes…
OK I know this does not have ANYTHING to do with your blog but if you need a laugh here’s one from the Rochester Police log (I want to meet the person who writes this!)
1:12 a.m. — On Governor’s Road there is a cow; from whence it came, police ask, and how. A fence is down and there’s a risk that 10 more cows could roadwards frisk. An officer turned cowboy tries to herd them up — to his surprise, one cow’s a bull, it ain’t too happy. Retreat! Retreat! And make it snappy!
There’s quite a nip in the air here, too. I keep my house fairly chilly but I have an electric lap blanket that keeps me nice and toasty.
My Honey tends to have warm “mitts” no matter what the ambient temp.
She likes it when I say “warm mitts” for some reason.
Couldn’t make it through the winter in this house without layers. And fingerless gloves. I think I’d rather be a lizard than an insect.
Oops. Hit the button too fast.
You know, because lizards eat insects.