frozen north

You know it's cold when... you go to Wal-Mart on Saturday morning and the aisles are empty.

You know it's cold when... your husband, who grew up in Montana and is a fearless winter driver, comes home and suggests maybe you should reconsider the planned excursion to Detroit for your nephew's first birthday party.

You know it's cold when... your body is so dry you are tempted to slather it with petroleum jelly to shield it from the dry air.

You know it's cold when... the Coke Zero stored in the semi-heated back hallway is slush when you open the can.

We wisely canceled the trip after looking at the map of lower Michigan with the brilliant blue storm patches covering every possible route from here to my brother's place. It does feel like I have officially crossed some boundary in my life--the imaginary line from young person to old person. However, it is best not to spend the day in the ditch or the emergency room.

Instead, we will spend the day snugly at home listening to the hum of the washer and dryer... perhaps bundling ourselves for the 1/4-mile trek to the nearby pub for some Guinness beef and sticky toffee pudding later in the afternoon.

It has the feel of a childhood snow day, wide open with possibility.