Time to rejoice that I don’t live where dog poop freezes to the ground faster than you can pick it up. You heard me right. As we reset the clocks this weekend, my gratitude list includes warm poo, which just goes to show that it’s probably time to up my medication.
I’m wearing a bathrobe, down jacket, scarf, and gloves to let the dog out. This basically involves opening and closing the door. It’s 37 degrees in South Carolina this early morning, but it’s a dry cold, so it’s not as bad as it sounds.
I come from the Finns, a proud people, where 90 year old grandmothers will run straight from a steaming hot sauna to jump naked into a frozen lake. Nights in the winter last six weeks, and even the reindeer go a little wackadoodle and seek out warmer climates … like your neighbor’s hot tub. Finland is also the home of the Dudesons, a family that makes the cast of Jackass look like nuclear physicists. Coincidence? I think not.
Despite my heritage, I moved to South Carolina four years ago to escape the cold. Mission accomplished, except that it is currently in the 40’s in New York, Chicago, Baltimore, and Bismark. Stop gloating, you damn Yankees.
Don’t give me your blazing fires and hot cocoa. Have you noticed how people standing near the fireplace are wearing 20 pound wool sweaters and de rigueur leg warmers, while they drink enough hot buttered rum to cause Bacardi stock to skyrocket? I’ve been to a ski lodge before, where I saw my breath in the ladies room, and feared freezing to the toilet seat. You may think that the ski patrol is rescuing people off mountainsides, but most of their time is spent thawing people off toilets, while St. Bernards pass out hot buttered rum and leg warmers.
It’s little wonder that when the chance to move south of the border came (on I-95, at the South Carolina state line, look for the 40 foot giant sombrero) I jumped on it. I believe that the tourist bureau should rethink the state motto. I think a lot more people would move down for the milder winters if they knew that South Carolina is the warm poo state.
Karla! You slay me! LOL We had considered South Carolina as a place to move, but settled on Arizona. It’s the “burnt to a crisp” poo state. 😉
That would look great on a license plate!
Your blog counter gnome is lacking in math skills. He always shows your comment count as being one more than actually shows…unless you have a secret admirer whose posts don’t show.
Warm poo, extra crispy poo…all this talk of poo is making me NOT hungry. Great diet aid!
You never feel so alive as when it’s -30 and the wind is cutting deep into your throat like a knife!
You know, if aliens came down to Earth, and saw people picking up poo after their dogs, which one of us (dog or human) do you think the alien would think was the superior species?
It gets down to negative temperatures here in good old CT. That’s a dry enough cold to make your nose bleed just by opening your front door.