Cold, cold, cold. Too cold to be Florida. A low of eighteen? Surreal. And painful. I've seen cold before, like minus 5 during my short-lived and foolish move to Ohio ("It's high in the middle and round on both ends. O-Hi-O!"), but you expect that there. You expect cold, and brown slush, and all the joys of living in a freezer, though never in my life did I imagine myself swinging a large stick at my windshield as hard as possible to try and convince a stubborn hunk of ice to let loose.
Overall, you sort of expect some Donner-esque hardships living in such a place.
But not in Florida, land of mermaids, "Vice City" and anthropomorphic mice. Florida equals heat, and lots of it, mister. I've seen the wax melt off a McDonald's cup here. So to see the mercury struggle above forty on a sunny day here is, well, disconcerting. It makes you wonder for a second if Al Gore is right, but then you remember that Al Gore has never been right about pretty much anything he's ever said, done or thought, and you go on with life. Indoors, as much as possible.
This is actually my first post as a blogger (finger quotes around "blogger". We'll see how it goes. I may post again in an hour, or six months from now.). Hell, I haven't written anything longer than a grocery list since college. I've had the account open for several months but haven't felt strongly enough about anything to post it here. Well, that's not entirely accurate. I have two pretty cool kids I'm kind of fond of, and Obama's first two weeks in office is the most bizarre spectacle ever (Glenn Reynolds put it best when he asked, "Do any of these people pay taxes?"). It's just that time is a rare commodity, and I already spend a good bit of it in front of this thing. I originally intended for this to be a semi-private monologue to my children, to let them know the old guy they roll their eyes at was at one time a reasonably smart and productive guy. And to make sure they know that what I am now is entirely their fault.