If all the animals on the equator were capable of flattery, then Thanksgiving and Halloween would fall on the same date.

It’s not that I don’t like cold weather. You know I love cold weather.You won’t hear me pining for the summer and 80 degree days.I love coats and sweaters and hats and mittens.I like wearing boots every day, even if it does mean wearing socks, which I don’t really like.I like winter food too…soups and stews and pot pie and shepherd’s pie.But, the thing is: it’s been weeks and weeks that I wake up and put on tights and an undershirt and a sweater and a big scarf and something warm for my feet and head. Weeks and weeks. I’ve distilled my wardrobe down to about seven outfits because I can walk to work in them without freezing and then remove a top layer at the office.I haven’t seen a ballet flat or oxford in months.  It’s like dressing for battle --- and I suppose that’s exactly what it is.The evenings are getting lighter though. It’s not so dark when my train comes up out of the tunnel and it seems like that may be the end of the snow (there’s still a good six inches of snow near my house and the driveway is still ice).Youngest has a class, three days a week this semester, that gets out at 9:00pm. He’s good and catches the 9:19 but K and I have to trade off suiting up and going to get him from the station at 10:00. There have been nights when I leave a full layer on after I get home and crawl into bed with leggings and socks. There are nights when it is 9º.I've bought a couple of things to bring to London from Madewell and H&M. My version of high/low.  I’m bigger around the middle than I used to be and am not digging through things to see what doesn’t fit before I go away.And! I changed out the elastic in my amazing Vestaire skirt from Quotidienne. The waistband was pinching me terribly and I was in agony at the end of the day. When I took the original elastic out I was shocked at how tiny it was – no more than eight inches long! Aren’t you so proud of me? I hemmed a skirt too.Oldest did two gigantic tattoos this week. It fascinates me. A macaw? Really? The length of your arm? And a rose as big as your head. He sketches first and works from transfer paper, so both clients approved the drawings before he inked them. I mention this because I would freak out if someone tattooed a giant bird on me and I’m his mother so I worry. I also worry because he dropped his gun and stuck himself in the hand trying to catch it. He followed all the procedures for when that happens but will have to have blood tests. The needle went through his glove and I could tell that he was concerned but not getting crazy and for that I was thankful.After writing about being a happy person the other day, someone wrote to me and said something like: so, you always look at the bright side? And I realized that that is not true at all. I am a happy pessimist. I do not think the glass is half full. But shit happens. It does and this is what we have and I am happy. Someone else hinted that I was tempting fate, so I’ll shut up now.