c-c-c-cold

Brrrrr. I've become one of "them". A big midwestern-grown sell out. One of the southern folks whose blood threatens to freeze at 50 degrees Fahrenheit. Yes, the girl who grew up doing THIS for fun....... ....deemed this mornings' chilly, wet, windy 50-degree conditions "too cold to go outside" and urged dear J to take his big coat with him to work. Immediately disappointed in my feebleness, I tried to redeem myself by taking Henry out for a walk. Let's just say his "walk" consisted of three layers of clothing, a jaunt to the end of the block and back, and a smelly wet dog. A week back home in Wisconsin over Christmas should cure this insanity. Because, as all northeners know, you're not cold until at least one extremity is numb. Until then, I'll be the one in the Uggs searching fervently for that FUPA-inducing pink snowsuit of mine.

The weekend passed with a fairly low amount of our "new normal" chaos and drama. J's still frustrated with work, I'm still frustrated with my recovery, I had an emotional Saturday afternoon that I just prefer not to get into in an attempt to avoid an emotional Monday...but all in all, we managed a decent (if lazy) weekend. I did wreak havoc on the condiment aisle at the grocery store, so there's that. While reaching for a bottle of horseradish, I took down a few containers of ketchup with my elbow. Since they're plastic, one would assume they would bounce to the ground and land safely, right? HA! Not at the hands of Mandie! One smashed into the concrete floor with so much force that it exploded. An explosion aimed, naturally, at yours truly. My shorts-clad legs were splattered with enough ketchup for at least 5 burgers- enough to make me look as if I'd been shot right there in the grocery store aisle or was experiencing some sort of explosive period. And I wasn't the only target. The merchandise on the opposite side of the aisle received an even coating of ketchup, too. So there I stood on a busy Sunday afternoon, an obese old woman rolling up beside me in her motor-scooter gawking, a lady with (of course) a baby glaring at me as if I'd set out to attack her precious bambino. Move along people, nothing to see here. I flagged down a pimply teenage employee, made a lame attempt to help, and finally just took his paper towel offering and bolted.

I need to go find socks. My toes are numbing.