After eight months of balmy AZ temperatures, it finally dipped into–horrors!–the mid fifties–forcing me to drag out my faithful steel-toed boots instead of sandals.

Eight months of sandal wearing means that I now feel like I’ve got cinderblocks strapped to my ankles. I pick up a foot. Ungh. I set it down. Thunk. I feel absurdly taller, as if I’ve got those pimpin’ platform shoes with goldfish in the heels.

Meanwhile, in my husband’s hometown of Ashland, Oregon, a freak blizzard has stranded motorists all over the mountain, trapped in their cars by window-high snow, while rescue teams bring out food and water on snowmobiles.

Yeah, these Arizona winters are just gruelling…

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