Ominous

Arriving at SFO yesterday, I surveyed the scene: Early morning gray, 55 degrees, fog hanging onto the tops of the mountains. A couple of hours later (after an extra long security line with none of the recently rebutted extra security measures taking place) my plane broke through the foggy gray-ness and streaked through an open, sunny, blue sky. Periodically during the two hour flight I glanced down to see the world covered more and more in some patches of white stuff. First in speckles and sprinkles, then in Tundras-worth. Right before we landed, I looked out and saw the world had turned into an endless expanse of fluffy-white marshmallow-ness. The snow was deep and covered EVERYTHING. There were no trees. No mountains. No roads. Just white. Forever.

Which is worse? A Gray San Francisco or a White, frozen Northwest? Which, do you think? I'm enjoying the brightness of the day here in Northern Idaho, whilst tucked into my parent's toasty home (waiting for Thanksgiving). But heaven forbid you have to go outside, or especially, drive anywhere; the roads are paved, grooved, horizontal icicles.

Let's just put it this way: I would rather live in San Francisco.

Last night I went running outside around 8pm. My family thought I was crazy. It was so cold that seconds after leaving the house I could feel my noze hairs freezing inside of my nostrils. TMI anyone? (I mean, really, girls don't like even admitting that we have something as gross as nose hair, but we do, and mine froze and now you know.)

My Dad interrupts this blog entry to announce to anyone listening in the house: "It's one degree outside!"

'Nuf said.

Picture of the backyard from behind the sliding glass door. (Pardon the glare... but it's one degree outside. 

Too bloody cold to open the door for the photo.)

Happy American Thanksgiving, everyone!