Have I mentioned lately that Virginia is a lot colder than Georgia? I’ve never lived anywhere this cold. And I’m pretty sure my fingers are going to freeze and break-off before spring rolls around…if it ever comes.
If I lived back in pioneer times, the members of my wagon train would’ve killed and eaten me well before the food supply ran out… just to end my whining.
What makes things worse is that most of our neighbors consider Virginia to be a tropical paradise. Because they moved here, “down here” as they like to say….from ice-capped regions of Maine and Minnesota and Buffalo and the North Pole where every November locals get their blood replaced with antifreeze along with flu shots.
Yesterday, my friend Whitney pointed out “at least the sun shines down here. Back in Pittsburgh, it was dark and cold and gray every single day.”
Our highs here in Richmond are in the 30’s right now. That’s an insultingly cold low where I’m from. And the weather forecasters always do this thing I don’t understand.
FORECASTER: “Tomorrow’s expected high is 38 but it’ll feel like 36. Low tomorrow night dipping down to 17, but it’ll feel more like 15-and-five-eighths.”
Who comes up with these arbitrary feel like numbers?
Seems like they should consider the subjectivity of their audience when making such predictions. For example….
FORECASTER: The high tomorrow will reach 38 degrees.
But it’ll feel like -5 if you’re over 90 years old and anemic.
42 degrees with frequent 300 degree intervals if you’re menopausal.
93 degrees and humid if you’re an obese cardiac patient.
Freezing even under the covers if your wife’s pouting with you.
Feelin’ “hot, hot, hot” if you’re Buster Poindexter.
And “cold as ice” if you’re Foreigner.
And 98 degrees if you’re… 98 Degrees.
My good friend Shari is from Maine. She’ll tell you she’s from New Jersey, but she often gets things wrong. As a child, she walked up hill both ways in seven feet of snow to her bedroom and her dad was the abominable snowman and her mom was Elsa from Frozen. And she had a pet yak.
Here’s her take on the paltry three inches of snow we got on Tuesday.
I hate the way my voice sounds in recordings.
Northerners act like they’re so “Arctic Tough” with their snowplows and road salt and nowhere-to-bury-their-dead-until-Spring. When I’m around this sort of talk I get unnecessarily defensive and start spewing one-ups.
“Oh yeah? Well Georgia’s miserably hot in the summer time. The humidity’s so bad that as soon as you get dried off from taking a shower you’ll need another shower. And we grow cockroaches big enough to be listed as dependents on your income taxes. And we have kudzu and Honey Boo Boo and we still use corporal punishment in public schools. So THERE!”
I have to go walk my dogs now. They don’t seem to care that it’s 30 degrees right now. At least it’s sunny.