Fact: It’s hot in the kitchen.
Did you know kneecaps sweat? Oh, do they ever! I’m pretty sure my kneecaps have never never sweat this much.
Except maybe at Fish Lake last year when it was 40 degrees in the shade but at that temperature sweat instantly evaporates anyway and nobody is lucid enough to care. I had forgotten. It was a winter-loving person’s worst nightmare.
But I digress. The kitchen. It’s hot. Even in scrubs.
Thank-you, by the way, to all the scrub-pant advocates in my life. They were a good call. I bought four pairs and they’re actually all I wear.
(Along with t-shirts, socks, and aprons! I cook CLOTHED, thank you very much.)
Today’s TBT is to celebrate all things icy and cold, aiding in the fight the fight against swe-eecaps.
Sweaty + Kneecaps. Uh huh. It’s a Thing.
Ok maybe I’m just a dork but it should be a thing. It’s fun to say! You should try it sometime.
Back to cold things.
Of course, that may be because one must first have a charilift for one to get stuck on it, but that’s a minor detail.
Instead, a favourite cousin of mine and I had the pleausre of experiencing North America’s longest t-bar!
It was worth it;
one of those days where it looked the world was dunked in whipping cream.
Can you feel your toes going numb and your longjohns snug under your snowpants?
No? We’ll have to try harder.
Do you want to go snowshoeing instead? I did some of that this past year too.
A wintery scene at my parents house! I managed multiple (short) visits to this view this year.
I do like it.
We had very blue skies today. It made sweaty thighs today. I’m ready the cold kind of blue skies again.
And Yes. I said sweaty thighs.
It is exactly as cringe-worthy as that sentence was.
Hey, remember the days of scraping frost off your windsheild?
Ultimately annoying but sound refreshing, today.
I did a lot of driving this winter, and with that a lot of scraping. It’s a love-hate realtionship, really.
But Oh Frost, how I love thee!
(Scraping, I do not)
This was the prettiest frost on my windsheild this year. If it were a work of art I would call it “And God Painted in Paisley.”
Oh wait, it is a work of art!
and left just for me on my windshield one day! How sweet.
We continue our tour by considering a horrible, blurry, and nondescript photo of a highway and some black ice.
And that’s the magic word: ICE!
Are you feeling chilled yet? I’m getting there.
Mostly because I crawled onto my bed, took off my socks and opened the window –
necessary for the heat as well as the sweet treat of the sweaty feet
(yep yep, ain’t that neat)
but I’ve probably sufficiently grossed you out today.
Or maybe not, I didn’t mention sweaty elbows, did I?!
(Swelbows! That’s fun!)
Or the slippery feeling between your toes
(swoes! How fitting.)
Or the sticky sensation behind the ears or by your shoulder blades or…
ok. I’ll stop.
It’s time to go dream of horrible, wonderful, snow-filled roads anyways.
Or maybe in my dream I’ll just follow my darling cousin’s lead,
and hug a hunk of ice.