France has been suffering from an intense cold wave these last couple of weeks, with temps getting down to about -15°C at night in some parts. Today, at the Birth Control Bed & Breakfast, it was a whopping -11°C when I took the kids to school.
It's so cold out there that as soon as I put the dogs' water bowl outside, it's frozen in about 2 minutes. It's so cold that my liquid laundry soap, which is sitting on top of my laundry machine in the unheated basement, is frozen.
But even though -11°C sounds so bitter, if you do the conversions, that's only 12°F! Shoot, that's balmy, really in the whole winter scope of things. 12°F is still above zero in my American mind, and hence, really not that bad. Of course, this is the woman that used to live in a place where -25°F at night was a common occurrence.
But Dorothy, you need to be fair. You ain't in Idaho anymore.
It is bloomin' cold out there by which ever scale you use. I'm going to have to remember to start buying powered laundry soap this winter and perhaps start knitting husky fur sweaters for all and sundry's Christmas presents next year. If only I knew how to knit...
At least the dogs seem happy. They've all dug very nice holes around the garden and are taking turns rotating between them, except for Abaka who has decided that laying down on top of the wood piled in the trailer is her spot. Three furry muffins, with their snow noses on proud display, enjoying the cold of the air, the meager warmth of the sun, and their dreams of an "all-the-underpants-and-cats-you-can-eat" buffet.