Old and Cold

Black Ice 2

(No, this isn’t this year’s Winter Queen photo; I’ve yet to work on that, with the press of other things. Wait a week or four.)

Writing from an extremely cozy house….

Would that winters were as easy on the Real World body as they are for this eldritch lady I published here last winter.  She may be swathed in furs, but she’s not affected by the cold.  Me, however, now that’s a different story.

I’m one of the rare ones who’s not afraid to admit to my age — at least in general terms.  I’m well into my fifties now.  And though I’m still more resistant to the cold than the native Alabamians about me, or my Floridian husband, I start to think that it’s more of a mental resilience than physical.  I’m used to the idea that it’s supposed to be freakin’ cold at this time of year.  I even went on a few long-distance walks (about 5 or 10 miles) during single-digit winter days back in the Seventies, with a nasty, nasty wind chill.  These days, though, my hands, though still elegantly long-fingered, can’t handle the temperature in their (thankfully small) collection of slightly arthritic joints.  I pulled on my gloves to pump gas into my car during the round of freezing weather last week, because the chill was plain brutal.

And the cold’s back now for another go, for something like 5 days at least this time.  As I’m writing this (early Saturday morning), the weather station on our wall says 18° (-8°C).  The low may swing back up into the 20s a few times, but it’s supposed to crash again by next Tuesday.  It may be time to break down and go hunting for my favorite Ben…a fellow name of Ben Gay.

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Posted January 25, 2014 by Harper Ganesvoort in Personal, Real Life

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