The Thirteenth

Today. Today I am proud to say that I am living in the coldest city on the planet. It is a sort of accomplishment, and while it's not of my own doing, it is exciting none-the-less. Something to tell the grandchildren, you know. Yesterday was very cold too, but that didn't stop us from going out. There was a Christmas party (dinner and dance) waaay out in the country, and K and I decided to car-pool with her posse of boys out there. It was nice. A bit scary driving on the roads polished smooth as glass, with a fog hanging low over the ground- it is so cold that every molecule of liquid in the air freezes, so even though the sky is clear it is hard to see. And then you get ice on the inside of your windows too, from breathing. At the party I got to talk to a guy from my youth, who had been in Scandinavia for a few years, and it was surprisingly enjoyable. He worked on his girlfriend's goat farm this summer, and I thought that that was absolutely fantastic: how like something out of a book. I felt a bit out of place, as usual, but sucked it up and had a fun time anyways. Every few hours, the guys would go outside and run their cars for a while, to stop them from freezing up and not starting. And then this morning, it was -46, and our bedroom windows had ice inside them, and my nose was cold, and the day was sunny and frighteningly soft...when it gets very cold it is not "crisp and clear": all the plants, trees, buildings, even the horizon, are fuzzy. And the sunny sky makes it colder, for when there are clouds it holds a bit of heat in.