Buffalo Gal

One of my myriad punishments for deserting Buffalo and spending 24 years in the south was thinning blood and a thickening body.
My first two winters here were global warming mild, thus the sustained single digits of the last several weeks have been brutal.
The cold snap brought a vicious bronchitis. Breathing hurt indoors and I avoided inhaling outdoors whenever possible. Charlie groaned and moaned about joint pain.
One night I faced the fear that we had become the stereotype.
"Honey, do you think we need to maybe just live up here in the summer months?" I gently broached - mentally steeling myself for finishing the measure of my days in an early bird buffet line in Florida.
"No," he said, emphatically listing off the places we'd lived together and why this is better. We'd missed too much time with family here already, he added. "And besides, I like looking out the window and seeing the fresh snow. I just don't like the cold."
That settled, I bundled up the next morning. In the rush to car, to parking ramp, to office - I missed the shift.
On the phone trying to find time for a quick meeting with an absurdly busy client, I suggested a quick lunch. He said he brought a sandwich, I said I'd pick one up on the way to his office.
I caught myself unbuttoning my coat as I got out of the car at the sub shop, assuming the fever had again spiked. But I noticed the streets and sidewalks were only wet. The snowbanks had taken a yesterday's-news grey tinge. I left my coat open.
Inside the shop, the sunny 38 degrees was the primary topic of conversation. Diverse strangers were chatting in line like long lost relatives.
If not for the meeting, I would have taken my sandwich and gone for a walk. It felt good to be outside. With my coat open and my gloves, scarf and hat sitting on the passenger seat- I was comfortable.
More warm than the sun, was the realization that I was no longer a hot house flower . I was comfortable at 38 degrees.
I laughed to myself at the Sea Islanders in Georgia who would go to the grocery store in ski togs when it dipped into the 50s -- as much to remind you of their condo in Vail as to protect themselves from the elements.
I may not be a blue blood. But I have Buffalo blood.

Copyright 2007 Judi Griggs

Buffalo Gal Judi Griggs I'm a communications professional, writer, cynic, mother, wife and royal pain. The order depends on the day. I returned to my hometown in November 2004 after a couple of decades of heat and hurricanes. I can polish pristine copy, but not here. This is my morning exercise -- 20-minute takes without a net or spellcheck. It's easier than sit ups for me. No guarantee what it will be for you. Clicking on the subscribe link will send you an email notice when each new entry is posted.
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Previous Entry :: Next Entry Read/Post Comments (0) Share on Facebook		2007-02-22 6:33 AM A semi-tropical 38 degrees One of my myriad punishments for deserting Buffalo and spending 24 years in the south was thinning blood and a thickening body. My first two winters here were global warming mild, thus the sustained single digits of the last several weeks have been brutal. The cold snap brought a vicious bronchitis. Breathing hurt indoors and I avoided inhaling outdoors whenever possible. Charlie groaned and moaned about joint pain. One night I faced the fear that we had become the stereotype. "Honey, do you think we need to maybe just live up here in the summer months?" I gently broached - mentally steeling myself for finishing the measure of my days in an early bird buffet line in Florida. "No," he said, emphatically listing off the places we'd lived together and why this is better. We'd missed too much time with family here already, he added. "And besides, I like looking out the window and seeing the fresh snow. I just don't like the cold." That settled, I bundled up the next morning. In the rush to car, to parking ramp, to office - I missed the shift. On the phone trying to find time for a quick meeting with an absurdly busy client, I suggested a quick lunch. He said he brought a sandwich, I said I'd pick one up on the way to his office. I caught myself unbuttoning my coat as I got out of the car at the sub shop, assuming the fever had again spiked. But I noticed the streets and sidewalks were only wet. The snowbanks had taken a yesterday's-news grey tinge. I left my coat open. Inside the shop, the sunny 38 degrees was the primary topic of conversation. Diverse strangers were chatting in line like long lost relatives. If not for the meeting, I would have taken my sandwich and gone for a walk. It felt good to be outside. With my coat open and my gloves, scarf and hat sitting on the passenger seat- I was comfortable. More warm than the sun, was the realization that I was no longer a hot house flower . I was comfortable at 38 degrees. I laughed to myself at the Sea Islanders in Georgia who would go to the grocery store in ski togs when it dipped into the 50s -- as much to remind you of their condo in Vail as to protect themselves from the elements. I may not be a blue blood. But I have Buffalo blood. Copyright 2007 Judi Griggs Read/Post Comments (0) Previous Entry :: Next Entry Back to Top