Picture me doing that dance football players do in the end zone after they make a touchdown.
Yesterday the temperature was 47 degrees in the afternoon. Today, at 1:29, the temperature was 8 below and the winds were gusting to 25 mph, making for a wind chill of ...TA DA... 39 below. And that, my friends, is an 88 degree difference in the feel of the air (actual temp versus wind chill temp) in two days. Take that Siberia. We get to brag, and dance, about surviving this shit.
Tonight I'm having wine and crackers for dinner. Regis had left-over Portuguese stone soup. One of our favorite recipes. I can email the recipe if you ask. For the soup, I mean.
I didn't sleep very well last night. With the wind nearly blowing the roof off the house, it was hard to relax. In between the bouts of restless sleep, I had weird dreams. Peter called right before I drifted off, expressing some distress about school. All of his classes are either online or on the television system so he has no interaction with other humans. Regis said it's like going to college on a space ship. It hasn't been the most satisfactory experience but he's being rational and thoughtful about his decisions so I'm not worried.
Regis and I are going to watch Superbad tonight. We'll see if our old-age sense of humor can take it. If it's like Napoleon Dynamite or Taladega Nights, it will be a short video adventure.