For West Coast readers only; all others go away:  It’s cold here tonight.  But how can we complain when it’s not -5 degrees or worse like everywhere else?  This is so unfair. Have we not feelings?  We have warm weather most of the time.  When it gets to 50 degrees, do we not feel cold?    Have we not goosebumps when the wind blows when it’s 50?  Do we not need to put up the hoods on our hoodies?

They shouldn’t judge us as weenies, should they?

One thing I don’t understand, and I’m going to make sure Suzy Snowflake, aka Dee Kann, my meteorologist friend, reads this post to get the answer.  Back in Illinois, when it got to a certain cold temperature, we could see our breath in little puffs of smoke when we exhaled. This happens a lot to Chris and me on our morning doggie walks.  5:30 a.m., it’s maybe 48-50 degrees, and there is my breath like it’s 10 below zero.  It kind of bugs me.  I know I’m not suffering enough to be able to see my breath.  Back in Illinois, the first time you could see your breath in the fall everyone would comment on it: “I was able to see my breath this morning!” with wide eyes and a sense of foreboding in their voices, the others shaking their heads and slightly shivering.  For all practical purposes, summer was gone the first time you saw your breath in the morning.

Not quite the same here.  I almost feel deceived.  I know it’s not that cold.  Yet there is my breath, looking like I’ve taken a hit off a cigarette.  Makes me kind of wistful for those early days of fall in the midwest, but I can’t go there right now.  Some east-of-the-Rockies friends might be reading this illegally and I dare not say I miss the winter this year, or I may suddenly find my facebook page devoid of all but the surfin’ safari kids I hang with now. I haven’t been able to say “I miss Illinois winters” since about November 2013.  However, when people say “yeah, you just don’t remember…” I always respond that I do, and I still miss it.

I do this year, too, and I must admit I remember it well and am glad I’m not living there right now.  I mean, I’d survive it and enjoy the sadistic commiseration with my neighbors, but I DO remember and don’t want to endure it until spring.  It’s getting pretty old right about now.  And it will be a messy, muddy, slushy, icky spring that will include snow on Easter Sunday.

Uh oh, I think I just heard the sound of my name being clicked off people’s facebook friends lists.