The Februaries: Two Lists

Blerg.

I've got a bad case of the Februaries tonight. There are various factors at work here.

#1. It's winter. And we all know how I feel about winter. I'm into winter for about two weeks around Christmas, and then I'm over it. It's time for summer to begin again, please. I'd like more hours of daylight and to stand outside without having to wear shoes. Too bad I have like, five months to go still.

#2. I'm not at the theatre tonight. I know, I know, I was just there last night. And I'll be there again tomorrow night. I just love acting so much! And I love working with the wonderful people I work with! And I love telling this story and making people laugh. And after being in rehearsal every night for the last two months, having every other evening at home is jarring. The hours stretch before me like...some depressing thing. (I'm too winter-weary for similes.) I just want to do theatre every night, all the time.

#3. I'm on the very edge of being sick. I'm not quite fully sick. But my head kinda hurts, and my nose is kinda stuffy, and my throat is kinda scratchy, and I kinda have a cough. In my melancholy state, I'm not sure which is worse--being totally sick, or being almost sick. My main thought is that if I was totally sick, I could justify eating unhealthily and laying around all day. As it is, I feel obligated to go about my daily activities, and I just feel vaguely blah as I do so.

Getting sick was probably inevitable. Between tech week and New Year's and Christmas and everything, someone in the cast was bound to get sick. Andy had it a week ago, and then Ben, and now Bryan and I, which means it will eventually get to Todd, and then Becca, and probably Ben again. Ah, the perils of stage kissing.

#4. Did I mention winter yet? It's just such a big factor. When it comes right down to it, a therapeutic light therapy box just isn't the same as a long walk on a summer night. I need a giant greenhouse to wander through, or a bio-dome of eternal summer to live in. The plant parts of me are curling their leaves inward and oh, how I ache with it.


I feel vaguely overwhelmed by the Februaries tonight, so, like Hemingway advised, I'm trying to just "write hard and clear about what hurts."

It seems I write a blog entry like this every winter. There's this one from almost a year ago, where I compared my winter slump to the sound of a wet comforter falling onto the floor. And this one where I named my impulsive coping mechanisms and also listed the things that keep life shimmery enough until spring.

So, in an effort to remind myself of the invincible summer within, here are the things that are shimmering for me lately.

#1) The moments of perfect communion onstage, when something passes between actors and audience and everyone's connected in this beautiful, temporary microcosm. That sounds so so cheesy, but it really is one of the greatest things about theatre.

#2) "Parking Lot Talks" with friends after the show...talking about characters and life and art and friendship while the the cold gathers in clouds around us, until we're shivering too much to talk any more, and I get in my car and drive home filled with gratitude for the people in my life.

#3) How the stars are almost always there to greet me each night, glittering in constellations. Even on cloudy nights when I can't see them, the knowledge that they're still there calms my soul somehow.

#4) Recent shenanigans with family and friends, including meals and Cards Against Humanity and good movies.

#5) This is going to sound silly after the other semi-profound items on this list, but the awesomeness of the X-Files deserves a spot here. I've just discovered the show, and I've been binge-watching it on Netflix for a solid month, in all its mid-90s glory. I have a mild crush on Fox Mulder, and I want to believe, and the truth is out there, and I'm only halfway through Season 3, so hopefully this franchise will last me until spring.


Keep on keeping on, all you summer souls. Our lemonade hearts will thaw soon enough.


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The Februaries: Two Lists

Whose Woods These Are I Think I Know

Revisiting an old poem. Tonight was one of those strange times when I was reluctant to go inside. Between parking the car and walking to my apartment door, I could feel a youthful wanderlust tugging at me. I often complain about the cold of winter, but there's something about the solitude and the night and even the cold that was calling to me tonight.

I don't feel I can walk alone into the wee small hours of the morning nowadays, in part because crime, and in part because I keep binge-watching the X-files. These two things combine to make walking alone at night seems fraught with peril. But the city lights kept reflecting off the rainclouds tonight, so instead of walking, I re-worked this poem a little bit. Maybe some night I'll walk instead.



Walking Thoughts

I walk to sleep
and take my walking slow.

I used to walk more often
years ago.
Heartsick, I would wander uphill,
past the silent homes of strangers.

Now,
I lay in bed and think
of those star-filled nights,
with the moonlight on the snow,
and my heart
slowly
pumping
someone’s name.

Now,
I lay in bed
stretching the muscles and tendons of my legs.
For the most part,
I no longer yearn.
His name is in my blood
and he is warm beside me.
So often now,
I walk and tire in the walking.

But now and then,
on a December night,
I will glance upwards
and think of how the moonlight looked
when I walked alone in the snow
and I will miss the cold silence of it.
I will miss how the cold
and the stars
and the snow
and the moon
filled the walking places
in me.

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Whose Woods These Are I Think I Know

The rains came down...

...and the floods came up.

Literally. Rexburg had some major flooding yesterday evening...about 2 inches of rain. 2 inches doesn't seem like a lot, but it's a lot. Especially when it all comes down within like, half an hour. There was also dime-sized hail. Between the debris caused by the hail and the huge amount of water in a short time, Rexburg's drains just couldn't cut it.

So this happened.

Plenty of people just took it in stride, like these folks, and the kayaker who's now famous among Rexburg's community (so many pictures of this guy). 

Video from the steps of the Kirkham building:

Video from the 4th floor of the Smith building:

Video from the east side of the Snow building:

Almost every building on campus was flooded. The Smith had some major electrical damage and is still closed, but the MC saw the worst of the water:

The testing center is located on the bottom floor of the MC, and seeing as how it's finals week next week, there were a lot of prayers that finals would be cancelled. But no such luck for students. Things are up and running again today.

The Snow building saw it's own share of water...this is the actor's studio:

Way to save the acting blocks, everyone. :)

There haven't been any major injuries, and no deaths. Jacob and I and his family live north of Rexburg, and we didn't get one drop of rain. I could hear the thunder, so I sat on the porch and watched the storm go by. Then I got on Facebook and was overwhelmed by all the photos and videos of what was happening on campus.

So, like any nature-lover, I got in the car and drove to campus. (I can't really explain why. I just wanted to be a part of it all, or something.)

Anyway, by the time I got to town, the floodwaters had receded quite a bit...and campus wasn't the raging rapid that it had been a few hours earlier. But it was clear that it had rained something crazy. I drove around for a bit and took pictures of the damage. These were all taken about 2 hours after the worst of it:

(This puddle was deeper than I had anticipated...)

This guy was happy about the rain!

 So I drove around for a little while, and then noticed crowds of people with buckets and trash cans, bailing people out. And suddenly, I thought, "Wait. People actually need help." I parked the van and grabbed our car trash can and waded out to help. I joined this group of people in their assembly line...they were trying to get the water down before it reached the front door of the house (just off camera to the right).

You know, I'll be the first to admit that the Mormon Church is not perfect. I love the Gospel dearly, and I don't ever want to leave the Church, but there are a lot of cultural things and sometimes policy things that I struggle with. But when it comes down to it, the students at BYU-Idaho are ready to serve. There was so much teamwork and service last night. Everything from "Bucket Brigades" to people bringing soup and water bottles to offering places to stay. No one told them to do it. They just saw a need and stepped up. 

Someone caught this gem of a moment, and it captures the spirit of last night's efforts pretty well:

 After we finished with the yard above, someone said they knew Baronessa Apartments needed help. So we all headed over there. And boy were they right. When we got there, a lot of the furniture had already been taken out of the apartments. 

But the biggest task ahead was bailing out the apartments. A lot of the student housing in Rexburg has a semi-submerged lower level, and quite a few of them were flooded pretty badly. I don't know details on other complexes...all I know is that Baronessa had about four and a half feet of water in each apartment.

Students were able to get most of their belongings out in time, but the damage was pretty bad. I joined the Bucket Brigade working to lower the water level, which meant standing waist-high in muddy water and filling up buckets to hand over the wall. I ran into several friends there, including my friend Eden who exclaimed cheerfully, "It's my first natural disaster!" as she stood waist-deep in water next to me, her hands muddy as she filled bucket after bucket.

We got the water down to about three feet, and then they brought a truck to help pump out the rest. The next task was to get the water-logged couches and mattresses out of each apartment, and to clean up as much trash as possible. We worked until about 9, before we ran out of light to work by.

I dreamed about it all last night, and this morning I woke up and wrote down my fragmented thoughts. I'm posting them here, unedited, so it's a bit disjointed, but it was an overwhelming experience, and I don't think I could describe it as well if I tried to compose it. Here are the images and memories I have of last night:

Wading through Baronessa. Surreal. Could have been any one of the apartments I lived in (thought of Beehive) back in the day. Walking on carpet underneath three feet of water felt so strange--a combination of sensations that I'd never experienced. Personal belongings floating among bark and dirt. Could see the waterline above the kitchen counter, along the living room walls, on the bedroom closets...it would have been neck-high in some places. Pictures and quotes on the walls, like every other girl's apartment in Rexburg. Dark because of no electricity, and getting darker. Towards the end, had to squint. 

Paper and occasionally clothing brushing past legs and feet. I would pull something out of the water now and then, to keep it from getting tangled. Stubbing toes on bed frames and cinderblocks. A few stray hangers now and then. A floating bag of flour. Swollen and water-logged cheerios. Carpets coming up from the water...bits of padding and plastic floating. Standing water being blocked by floating mattresses. Lip gloss, first aid, notes from classes, the occasional shoe, all floating by my legs. A water-logged towel I pulled up, and handed to someone outside, joking, "Just in case you need to dry off." I thought of Rose and Jack in the Titanic...wading through the water while furniture began to float around them. It all made the ceiling seem closer. 

My toes lost sensation after a while. I wondered what else I was walking in. I had to just not think about it, not wonder what was brushing my legs and feet. I was careful not to touch my face with my muddy hands. Thought of the times I moved mattresses in the past, and how awkward and unwieldy a mattress is. When they're waterlogged, they're too heavy to lift. You have to fold them, push them along in the water. We found a full suitcase under one of the beds, the clothing inside weighing it down so that we couldn't float it out. It took three people to carry. The box springs would make a squelching sound when you lifted them--all the water creating a vacuum underneath. Box springs revealed candy stashes, boxes of notes, the odd piece of clothing...things that would pour out with the water when we lifted them. In one apartment, I couldn't identify the white swollen cloth-like things floating in the water, until I picked one up and realized it was a wafer cookie, the package long gone. All of the refrigerators were floating, tipped up on their sides. 

When I got to the apartments, half of the furniture was already out on the lawn, and when I got down into the rooms, I realized it all had to have been floating. There was some good natured teasing...people still smiling. "It's my first natural disaster!" Eden laughed, while covered in mud, throwing a bucket of water over the edge of the wall. A boy who put a plastic rat on one of the refrigerators, and then watched while we all freaked out. Someone brought garbage bags, and we would just pick up whatever we could, setting the full bags outside the windows. One apartment where we thought we were done, but then I opened a door and discovered another bathroom, another bedroom. The water had been standing still for hours, and the smell made me gag. So much trash floating in that room...the mattress was blocking the bedroom, and the closed door had kept all the trash from floating out. 

Going through room by room, apartment after apartment, felt so strange--the water made them all look the same, but every square foot held some unknown underneath the surface. We started to warn each other of where nails were sticking up from the carpet, where the ground was unsteady. I kept slipping on linoleum, not being able to see where it started. 

There aren't a lot of pictures of the damage, simply because no one wanted to drop their cameras in the water. But here's what I saw last night, where I was helping:

(You can see the waterline near the light switch.)

As much trash as possible had to be removed so that it wouldn't clog the pumps. The couches and mattresses had to be pulled out so that all the water could be drained from them. We got all of it done just as the light was fading. The electricity was all off, so a few people had headlamps to help with the last of it. 

When I got home, we all exchanged stories. Kristi, Anna, and Jeff all went to Millhollow Rd, where their old house is. Their basement was fine, although the window wells were filled with water. They had some neighbors who weren't so lucky, though. Jacob and I were worried about our storage unit, especially since a lot of valuable things were close to the sliding door (guitar amp, my mother's old sewing machine, a box of my journals from the last fifteen years). But the seal on the door was strong enough that everything was perfectly dry! Whew. 

I had Laura take a picture of me when I got home, before I cleaned up. You can't quite tell in the picture, but my shorts are completely soaked through. 

Here's the other slightly worrisome thing that happened. I got in the tub and glanced down and thought, "Why is the water all reddish?" Then I noticed the enormous gash on my ankle.

It was bleeding a lot, and I had no idea when or how or where I'd gotten it. I was practically numb from the knees down by the time I finished at Baronessa, so I probably didn't even register it when it happened. I was worried because I'd been walking in muddy, possibly contaminated water for the last few hours, which is no good with a gaping wound. Laura and Anna helped me clean up, and when the dried blood was cleaned off and when the bleeding had slowed down, it really wasn't too bad of a cut. It was deep, but pretty clean. So I don't think it was from anything metal--all the metal I was working with was old and would have made a more jagged cut. There was one apartment where they told us to stay out of one room because of broken glass, so I think it might have been that. I disinfected and bandaged it up, and decided that if it looked bad in the morning, I'd go to the doctor. And as of this morning, it looks fine. It hurts when I forget about it and bump it or sit cross-legged, but its healing well. It's awkward to care for, since it's on the outside of my ankle, but in the grand scheme of things, this is nothing.

UPDATE: After being urged to do so by individuals and the healthcare community at large, I went and got a tetanus shot today. And now my arm hurts. But I am now less likely to die because of the flood. 

For the most part, Rexburg is doing pretty good. The floodwaters are almost all receded and campus buildings are completely cleaned up. As I type this, this is what the weather is like:

But there's still a lot of work that needs to be done. There are several families who lost everything.

UPDATE: Those wishing to make financial donations to help survivors of the flood recover, there is a fund set up HERE. 

There is also a Facebook page to coordinate recovery efforts. A lot of it is for meals and cleanup and housing, so it's mostly for the Rexburg area, but check it out to see if there's anything you can do to help! Click HERE.

During cleanup yesterday, I kept making the joke, "Everyone repent!" There were a lot of references to Noah's ark, too. Which makes this sight all the more meaningful...this was taken right before I drove into town yesterday:

"And I will establish my covenant with you; neither shall all flesh be cut off any more by the waters of a flood; neither shall there any more be a flood to destroy the earth.
And God said, This is the token of the covenant which I make between me and you and every living creature that is with you, for perpetual generations:
I do set my bow in the cloud, and it shall be for a token of a covenant between me and the earth."
- Genesis 9: 11-13

The floods that happen nowadays don't have the power to destroy the WHOLE earth, and in times of flash floods, that's a nice thing to remember. So if this rainbow ain't perfect timing, I don't know what is.

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The rains came down...

A cold and broken hallelujah

It's mid-December.
I find myself, after a few weeks of denial, in the throws of the winter blues.

I can't decide which is worse--the beginning of the winter blues, when the unthinkably long winter stretches before you in all of its grayness, or the long February days towards the end, when you've woken up and gone back to bed over and over again in the same grayness for so long you can't imagine life any other way.

I keep almost doing drastic things, as a way of coping.
Like cutting all my hair off. Or canceling class for the rest of the semester. Or throwing away most of my clothes.

I can't think straight during winter.

The things I actually do to cope are (so far) less drastic.
Baking.
Staying up until 2 or 3 am on a regular basis.
Reorganizing my makeup.
Swearing way more often than usual.
A few weeks ago, I read an entire novel in one sitting. And then did it again with a different novel the next day.

I kept looking for pictures of winter to post with this blog.
But none of them felt accurate--they were all glittering snow in the sunshine, or mystical fog in the forest, or serene blue skies.
Because no one actually wants to photograph the day-to-day dirty snow drudgery that winter is most of the time.

I'm far from the darkest place I've ever been, but my winter blues are no less real for that.
This is not the great black dog that has visited me in the past.
But it's a medium-sized gray dog, large enough to demand my attention.

As I write this, a little voice in my head keeps whispering, "Be positive. Be positive. Be positive."
But in the words of this blogger, "Trying to use willpower to overcome the apathetic sort of sadness that accompanies depression is like a person with no arms trying to punch themselves until their hands grow back."

But the bizarre truth is that sometimes, if the depression is small enough--if it's a small, manageable kind of perpetual sadness--it kind of does work.
Punching yourself can make your arms grow back.
I know it sounds insane, but I've done it before.
So I'm trying to do that.
I've got a handful of beautiful things that make it easier to get up in the frozen mornings. Rehearsal with Danielle and Kieffer and Jerry and Emily--the chance to create beautiful and important art.* A smile from my husband. The possibility of baking more things.

And occasionally, you get little gifts that can sustain you for days on end.
Beautiful dances that are full of truth and art and honesty.
Funny and life-affirming movies.
Lovely songs.
Weekend nights at Jack In The Box that are filled with un-repeatable hilarity.
Long talks with good people.
Visits to best friends in Salt Lake City.
And I'm grateful for those things.

And set against the background of gray and snow and night and cold, I think they shimmer with more loveliness to me than they would on their own. So I suppose that while the gray gathers outside, I'll just keep trying to hold those sustaining things up to the light and let them shimmer.

* Theatre is the insanity that keeps me sane. 

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A cold and broken hallelujah

Why bad weather is worse in Rexburg than it is in the Pacific Northwest

Because Rexburg sucks. That's why.

It is the beginning of April. Know what the weather is like? Like this:

I feel like this picture doesn't do the rotten weather justice. Believe me, it's rotten-er than this picture looks.



I spent my teenage years in the Pacific Northwest, and occasionally when I complain about the weather in Idaho, people respond with, "But it's ALWAYS rainy and cloudy in the Pacific Northwest and you say you love it there!"

I respond with these three facts:

#1 - There is no constant evil biting wind in the Pacific Northwest like there is in Rexburg. Also, it's not as cold as Rexburg.  

#2 - Even when it's cloudy and rainy, it's still GREEN in the Pacific Northwest. In Rexburg, bad weather days look like this: 

In the Pacific Northwest, even if the sky looks like this:

all you have to do is look down and you'll still see this:

There are occasions when you DON'T see this, but that brings me to the third reason.

#3 - There are things to do and places to go besides the library or a potato farm. 
One of the things I miss most about Oregon is cafes and coffee houses. I can "weather" rain and cloudy skies if I can also have gourmet hot chocolate, baked goods, and a table where I can read and write.

If you're in or near Portland, Seattle, Ashland or any other decently-sized city, there are also museums, indie movie theatres, workshops, etc. And everywhere, there are still little coffee houses. In Rexburg, when the weather's bad, your options include the library or staring at things.

And after 8 years in Idaho, I've exhausted the library.

So I'm going to eat and entire box of Girl Scout cookies while I stare at things.

And nobody tell me that I'm "as happy as I choose to be." I'm too busy wallowing in weather rage and self-pity. 

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Why bad weather is worse in Rexburg than it is in the Pacific Northwest

The Winter Blues

The weather is a problem.

Both functionally and emotionally.

It's at this point in the year when I begin thinking desperate thoughts--I mentally "check out" of school (which is not an option this semester, since I'm the teacher), I look up flights to tropical islands, I "clean the house" and end up throwing away half of my belongings. I have a lot of free time nowadays, and I keep thinking of things to do, and then not doing them because the weather is gross, and because we don't have a car.

And, if I'm honest, I also don't do these things because I'M kind of gross. There's both a meeting and a concert going on tonight, but when the weather is all cold and wet, my philosophy is "Why get dressed?" So I'm still in glasses and pajamas and yesterday's underwear. My hair is crazy and I have zit cream on my face. And it's entirely within my power to clean myself up and get out of here, and it might even be good for me, but...

I dunno, I'd rather mope? And I kinda don't want to go do those things without my husband. Just 'cause I like him. And I'm feeling introverted and stuff.

I guess what I'm really saying is, when you have a Playmill summer to look forward to, it's real difficult to live in the moment. I was looking through old blog entries a few days ago, and stumbled on this gem from 2006:

Since coming up to West Yellowstone, Montana
1 Trips to the E.R. since rehearsals began
79 Approximate hours spent in rehearsal
2 Times I've watched Old Faithful go off
9 Times I've cried (happy, sad, in character, and out of character)
8,462 Times I've laughed
1 Compliment I've received that I will treasure forever
2 Parental lectures received since moving to Montana
6 Times I've listened to the song "Come On, Eileen"
4 Cast members that are currently ill
9 Moments I've wondered about a cast member's sexuality
14 Number of times I've fallen while attempting a partnered cartwheel flip
1 Number of times Ben has dropped me on my head while we were attempting said cartwheel flip
0 Times Curtis and I have done our jive choreography correctly
8 Times I've done the "Go Go Joe" choreography correctly
0 Times I've done the "Go Go Joe" choreography correctly while being able to breathe and/or sing
3.1 Harry Potter books I've re-read
7 Number of ferral cats caught in the theatre and have now been sent home to Jesus
8 Times I have been down-right astounded by things that the Merrill children have said
6 Average number of times per day that I sing a high G above the octave
9,742 Number of times I have thought of the wonderful people that surround me and how much I miss those that I'm not with every day right now

It's a good glimpse into what my first Playmill experience was like, and I can't wait to see what this coming summer has in store.

Even though this is what things look like in West Yellowstone right now:

But when you're surrounded by friends, when you're singing, dancing, acting, and occasionally exploring the National Park that you live 1 block away from, it's hard to feel mopey.

I'm just in a funk. A winter funk.

Maybe I'll go on a walk after all. Just to spite you, winter.

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The Winter Blues

"She knew that cold is not so cold if you are not afraid of it."

It's winter.

Last night, Rexburg experienced a little over a foot of snowfall, for the second time this year. And between it being February and having a slight cold, it's all I can do to resist hibernating. I'm either part-plant or part-bear, based on my responses to the weather.

Since I can't reasonably hibernate, I'm reading. I have the time to read this winter, unlike winters of the past. Two Februaries ago, I did a blog entry about "winter reads," and I think I'm going to call these books "February Books" from now on. I've been reading a lot of them lately.

I don't want to explore "brave new worlds" of literature in the winter. I'm finding I don't have the summer courage to make new literary friends. In February, one wants old familiar friends.

So far, I've reread Anne of the Island, Little Women, The Fault in Our Stars, A Wrinkle in Time, and most of the Little House on the Prairie series. I haven't read the latter in at least fifteen years, and
it's been fun to revisit. And boy, does that series help you deal with winter. It sort of romanticizes winter. And that's nice when you can't hibernate.

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"She knew that cold is not so cold if you are not afraid of it."

Porcelain in my bones

Remember how last winter was super-mild? I think this winter is taking revenge on the fact that it didn't get to happen last year. When I woke up this morning for church, it was -15 degrees.

Did you hear me?

NEGATIVE FIFTEEN DEGREES!

That's instant-nose-hair-freezing, can't-start-your-car-at-all, makes-you-look-up-flights-to-Bermuda cold. And okay, okay, I know there are other places in the world--the United States even--that are colder. But the thing is that cold isn't really relative to me. Like, I'm not thinking, "Gee, this is chilly, but I was colder that one time in Nebraska." No. I'm just cold. Right here, and right now. So if you'll excuse me, I need to get another quilt from my closet. And call the grocery store to order food for the winter, because there's no way in hell I'm leaving this house.*

Also, I got this screenshot from weather.com, and I like how they're trying to join in on the social media world, with the little "Love!" and "Ugh!" buttons. Maybe if I press "Ugh!" enough times, they'll change the weather for me.

* Except for teaching tomorrow. And rehearsal. 

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Porcelain in my bones

Bad news for farmers, good news for my soul

So winter has been very mild this year. Which I'm a huge huge fan of. The above pictures were taken last month, in January.

Yeah, that's Rexburg. In JANUARY. Know what Rexburg usually looks like in January? Like this:

This is real. It was actually taken in NOVEMBER of 2010.

Let me give you a little breakdown of how much of an anomaly this winter is. (I actually looked this up. Just for you people.)

SNOWFALL RECORDS FOR REXBURG, IDAHO FOR OCTOBER THROUGH JANUARY

2007 - 2008: 23.9 inches
2008 - 2009: 35.2 inches
2009 - 2010: 18.8 inches
2010 - 2011: 23.8 inches
Average: 25.4 inches

This year: 9.4 inches

I can't tell you how much joy this has brought me. I think we might just scrape through with no real winter at all! It's practically spring anyway. And okay, I'm probably being extremely inconsiderate of the many farmers whose living is dependent upon precipitation. Sorry, farmers. But I really love how non-wintery this winter has been.

Hopefully I'm not jinxing it.


PS: The pictures at the top of this entry were taken from our roof, which we can access from our bedroom window. There's even a little balcony porch thing right outside our window. I'm planning on making the it a "reading garden" come summer.

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Bad news for farmers, good news for my soul

A Convenient Truth

Sometime soon, I'll write about our move...after I'm done unpacking and cleaning and decorating and starting school and practicing a monologue and budgeting for the semester and all that. Maybe. But look! This was the weather last week:

I know that looks cold, but remember how this is REXBURG? At the end of DECEMBER?!

For those who don't know this, Rexburg's average December temperatures are, according to Weather.com, highs around 29 degrees and lows around 13 degrees. Fahrenheit.

Know how much snow is on the ground right now? At this very minute? Maybe 2 inches. (Okay, so that may be a problem for local farmers, but ya win some, ya lose some, right? Right, guys?)

Apparently, all this glorious warmth is caused by a weather phenomenon called La Nina. Someone told me that recently. I looked it up on Wikipedia, but couldn't figure out WHAT they were talking about and concluded that I didn't care. All I care about is the fact that I wore shorts last week. Which means that:

(Oh yeah, and I'm still messing about with Photoshop nowadays...)

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A Convenient Truth