Tag Archive | cold

The Post About Toes

My toes lie dormant for most of the year, nestled in warm fuzzy socks and hidden from the cold by thick furry boots. Much like groundhogs, they hibernate until they feel the soft breeze of spring tickle them during a night when they were violently kicked out from under the covers. And that, that is when they wake up and start demanding what they feel is rightfully theirs: freedom.

From all of you out there freaking out because I’m implying that my toes have an independent thought pattern, calm your over-enthusiastic horses. I’m not saying that my toes suddenly start moving all by themselves and ask the brain if they can break up with my body just to pitter-patter away on their own adventures. I like to think that my toes love me far to much to ever act on the great threat of 2011 (don’t ask.), so don’t y’all go chopping off your toes in fear that they’ll decide to discover China without you. Seriously, don’t, you’ll look like a wounded ostrich when you walk around.

I, being the generous and fair goddess that y’all claim me to be, give them their freedom earlier than most. Roughly translated into human lingo, this means that by March I can be seen prancing around the streets of Paris in my favorite pair of flip flops, gathering stares of disdain from most, awe from some and admiration from the rare few. I mean I have nothing against normal shoes, I wear sneakers and flats like everyone else, but there’s nothing quite like that first day when you walk outside, wiggle your toes and feel the raw air on your feet.

Having feet free of the constraints of suffocating socks and shoes is a part of summer that I love and that I would have a hard time living without, which is part of the reason that I could never thrive in Siberia. That and I don’t speak Russian. Now I know that some people simply can’t take off their shoes and walk across a lawn or a beach barefoot. Ladies, gentlemen and aliens, you are missing out. There are few feelings more enjoyable than having sand filter through your toes or letting your feet sink into a shaggy carpet of juicy green grass.

So (I feel as if I’m in a commercial, advertizing some natural health enhancer thing), take off your shoes, let your toes breathe, and walk through the grass. Well, except if you live in the city, in which case don’t, because the grass is covered in a thick layer of dog piss. Side effects of walking barefoot through an urban park may include fungi, disgust and consequential barfing. You are forwarned. Peace out.

Live long and prosper \V/
Sincerely,
The Mostly Confused Teenager.

PS: Am I the only one who’s been having some trouble with WordPress lately? My notifications don’t always show up, my reader won’t load… It’s the weirdest thing.

An Open Letter to Summer

Dear Summer,

You’ve been here for twenty days already, and yet you still fail to make your presence known to us. Yes yes, I know that here in Normandy we’re not supposed to get high expectations about your three month visit, but we still have some hopes come the 21st of June. We can give you a couple weeks to settle in, but then you’re supposed to warm our hearts and souls (and, um, skin and hair, but those parts are slightly less romantic) and make us sing with joy at being able to run through the fields and lay in the grass laughing. Instead, you appear to be being bullied by the other seasons, thus depriving us of some much needed alone time with the giant apricot in the sky.

Today when I got up, I put on shorts and a t-shirt and trudged into the bathroom to brush my hair and do other stuff that you don’t need to know about. About 156 seconds later I emerged from the room looking like I had just come from the Arctic Circle and had only seen wolverines for the past fifteen days (you heard me: a wolverine. Not nearly as muscly as Hugh Jackman, more of a Ron Weasley type (because a wolverine is a weasel. Get it? Yeah I find myself smart). Gosh, I can’t remember what I was talking about… Oh right, I was cold). I dashed back into my room and changed into pants, a long sleeved shirt and a sweatshirt.  Summer, it’s the 11th of July. Even for our harsh climate, frostbite inducing weather is not normal.

In this spirit, please show the following advice (by which I mean orders) to Winter, Spring and Autumn:
Winter; you have no right to butt in right now. You know we love you and your snow and holidays, but this isn’t the time. How would you like it if at Christmas Summer didn’t let you make it snow anywhere in the Northern hemisphere by turning your snowflakes into rain? Not good huh? No. So leave June, July and September alone.
Spring; you bring hope and color with you when you come, but now we don’t want to just hope anymore. Don’t push your timeline on other people, it’s not nice.
Autumn; as much as I love you, it most certainly isn’t your turn yet. You have the least right to impose yourself on Summer because it’s your time to shine afterwards anyway. Stop being hyperactive and trying to steal Summer’s months of glory.

Guys, it’s raining, I’m cold and about as tanned as a dying walrus. Will someone please send me on vacation to some exotic island already?

Live long and prosper \V/
Sincerely,
The Mostly Confused Teenager.

PS: Upon re-reading this post, it seems necessary to indicate that the giant apricot in the sky is the sun, since you aren’t all sociopaths who can read my mind. If you are, then you people have really great covers. Although… they do say ‘stranger danger’… I should stop writing now.

It’s Still Summer

Dear Autumn, back the hell off. I’ve known people like you who might be nice in some aspects of their personality but who are just too pushy. I will remind you that summer is until the 21st of September, so until then I will agree with none of this cold windy rainy nonsense that you’re imposing on the good people of EVERYWHERE.

I was walking on the street today and a leaf fell on my nose. How about no? First of all, I don’t like things falling on my nose, it makes me sneeze, and I happen to know that when I sneeze I sound like a dying zebra. Secondly, it’s still summer!!

Now I know there’s a certain rivalry in between summer and you and I also know that you feel slighted because people prefer the former to you, BUT MAYBE IF YOU STOPPED BEING SO DAMNED IN OUR FACES WE WOULD LIKE YOU MORE! Personally I love the sharp wind and the start of the holiday season, but for Cookie’s sake, it’s still a month and a half until Halloween! Please, I’m begging you, let us enjoy the last moments of our dying summertime hopes as they are swallowed by school and work *shakes head sadly*.

And Heat-Miser, Snow-Miser; if you keep fighting over who controls France, I’m going to go over your heads and go straight to your Mother. You wouldn’t like that would you? [childhood Christmas reference :’)]

Live long and prosper \V/

Yours sincerely,

The Mostly Confused Teenager

What would life be like if we had fur?

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I have two animals in my house; Cooper, a five year old golden retriever, whose full name is Cooperstown Hope, because we hoped he would be an amazing baseball player (turns out he’d rather lay on the ground and cuddle with the ball) and Lucy, a nine year old tabby (pictured) who was named after the character in Narnia. I was 6. Don’t judge me. Anyway, as I stare at Lucy stretched out on my bed and Cooper flopped on the ground like a mop, I can’t help but wonder, what would life be like if we had fur? Not like the thing coat of hairs we have now, but actual fur.

Unfortunately, I think first of the panting that possesses Cooper on hot days. Why can’t my mind be a little romantic once in a while? Our dog seems to perpetually be drooling and panting. Oh, I’m not painting a very nice picture am I. He’s a sweetheart and the most adorable dog ever. But if we humans went around drooling on everything because we couldn’t sweat out our pores? Ugh, no thank you.

Keeping clean would also be an issue. For one thing, we’d have to wash more often. For another, it would take a heck of a lot of time longer. And as a naturally lazy person, I object. Maybe we could lick ourselves. Like cats. No, no, that wouldn’t be good for kissing afterwards.

The upside would be that on cold days we wouldn’t get cold. No extra cloths equals no extra weight. Then again, humid fur…  not nice. Can you imagine being humid all day? Why, you’d have to carry a hair dryer around with you! And hair dryer equals extra weight. So once again, ugh.

After laying forth these points, I’ve come to the conclusion that I’d rather not have fur at all. Oooh, but it would be so soft!

If you have an opinion on the matter or if I missed something, drop me a comment below 🙂

Live long and prosper \V/

Yours sincerely,

The Mostly Confused Teenager.

PS: I got the bedspread when I was little. I haven’t gotten another one. *bright smile*