It is quite cold out there. The ladies at the library get a kick out of the fact that I'm used to this kind of weather (I hesitate to point out that being used to the cold doesn't mean taking joy in the stabbing pain in my cheeks whenever I step outside).

Jon gets a kick out of my levels of description for cold. My favorite is "cold as death"--that kind of cold that creeps into your bones and won't let go. It's usually our living room before the heaters are turned on. I want to point out that right now, the outside is not cold as death. There's a difference between just plain cold and "cold as death".