But all anyone can talk about these days is the cold.
Brrrrrrrrrr!
How cold is it?
The monitor which monitors the backyard reads 6.1 with the latest wind gust of 7.6 mph.
The south side gauge, which reads zero degrees, is unreliable as soon as it hits the sun, which will be soon.
So averaging these numbers out we get 3.3. We might subtract a few degrees for wind chill, since the backyard weather station thingie is spinning enthusiastically.
Iris (my phone) just chimed in with her report: 4 degrees F., sunny, with a wind chill of -12.
(Barometric pressure is 30.26 in.Hg.)
Ya think our focus on weather here is a teeeensy bit obsessive? Me neither.
Basically the majority of the country is experiencing this very same ultra-cold spell, the second in our short new year. This time we can blame an oscillating polar jet stream, according to one local meteorologist.
So how cold is it really?
It's so cold the GPS lady's teeth chatter when I start her up.
It's so cold the barks of the neighborhood dogs freeze in mid-glottis.
It's so cold the cardinals and robins called a truce in their turf war out back.
It's so cold that by the time I get dressed to go outside, I have to pee again.
It's so cold communication outdoors consists mostly of frozen looks, icy stares and chilly receptions.
It's so cold I can't fire up the fireplace. That's because a fire will keep the back zone just warm enough to keep the heat from coming on, which freezes the pipes at the opposite end of the house.
It's so cold I had to make a mask out of birch bark from the tree in the front lawn like Jim Sturgess and Ed Harris did in the movie 'The Way Back' except they were escaping from a Siberian gulag and I was getting the mail.
It's so cold my timbers are shivering and my computer froze.
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