It was with the windchill these last couple of days. That is about where the Fahrenheit and Celsius scales meet, so it's irrelevant to add either of those words after the number. My boots:
didn't quite cut it - only good to minus thirty. It seems those eight degrees really do make a difference.
Before I returned my library book on Friday I did some more homework:
as it was too frigid to be fiddling with push pins in my hydro pole. And I'm trying to not take it too personally but yesterday afternoon coming home from the art supply store (with the Queen of Arts no less!) we discovered a van crashed into "my" hydro pole, having neatly taken out my neighbor's Matrix on it's way there. No injuries, I am happy to say except to the metal and fibreglass.
Yes, the Queen of Arts was up in my neck of the woods and she graciously shared some of her time with me. I got to look through her art journal and see, without the blur of the computer screen, the vibrant colors and read the parts of her she chooses to share. We laughed and broke bread, my burned bread, and she looked past the pet hair and toys, not to mention the dreadful state I have let my car decline into. I plied her with wine to blur the edges. And she gifted me with one of these:
because that's the kind of Queen she is.