About this time of year I wish I was heading south to somewhere hot, hot, hot. I love the sun and the heat. I survive winters by trying to stay active outdoors. I have to remind myself that I’ve been through worse.
A few years ago at Tremblant we woke up one morning and looked out at the thermometer. This is what we saw.
No matter how you look, in C or in F, it’s still the same: -39. That’s before the wind chill.
“I guess you don’t want to go downhill skiing today.”
“No.”
“Maybe cross-country or snowshoeing?”
“No.”
It was a short conversation. Somehow it’s all Dave’s fault that the weather is so cold. I think it’s because he seems to enjoy it. I still don’t get it.