My trusty white outdoor temperature gauge from Rio Grande Savings reads minus thirty at this hourójust after 11 p.m.
I havenít seen days, or nights, like this since I walked my dog Tiffany around the Williston (North Dakota) town houses in 1994 and the wind chill registered eighty below! I didnít have Eskimo mukluks but I had well bundled hands and a coat with a ďhoodie.Ē
Itís so cold that my only New Yearís Resolution is to stay warm, no matter how many blankets I have to pile on.
Itís so cold that fingers stick together especially after I have rubbed them with Zimís Crack CrŤme or Gold Bond Healing CrŤme and then rush to lug the groceries in to find the bread ready for the freezer since they are hard as the ice in the bird bath.
Itís so cold that the Whiskas Poultry Packs for my cats has frozen and I have to unthaw them one pack at a time on the heater vent for two or three hours.
Itís so cold that the furry stuffed dog that my service dog tosses and chases is frozen to the wire fence that no longer flexes.
Itís so cold that my brain freezes without even one lick of a DQ ice cream cone.
Itís so cold that my walking stick from Taos freezes in place and wonít let go of the icy snow-bound ground.
Itís so very cold that Iím reminded of the human and canine trek in the Jack London classic: Call of the Wild.
Itís so cold that even in an insulated cup, my once freshly brewed and warm coffee changes to iced coffee.
Itís so cold that even the sky is too cold to be all the way azure. Today it looked like the big sky was shivering as it circled us in the Valley and the ice crystals latched onto wires, branches, and doggie breaths.
Itís so cold that my once feral cats do not venture out the iced over doggie door. Instead they purr, curled up next to each other and the cockers on the couch.
Itís so cold that even inside the propane heated home, socks are layered three times.
Itís so cold that short breaths and nostril hairs freeze like they do on winterís day in Anchorage.
Itís so cold that I shiver to think about even traversing from front door to frigid vehicle.
Itís so cold that the wintering finches and sparrows are puffed up and hunkered on the lowest branches of the willow and the tumbleweeds that snuck in sometime this recent fall.
How cold will it get? Friends, itís already minus thirty and dropping!