Okay--so our winters here are usually pretty temperate--I admit that.
But we do live within 45 minutes of the Sierra Nevadas, and the snow line.
In fact, Foresthill, where Green's Hill is fictionally located, is RIGHT ON the snow line.
There was the first game, on a snowy field that you had to scrape to see the lines.
There was the second game on the same field, but during the freezing sleeting rain--you could see the lines, but brrrrr...
I can't tell you which of these games she hated more or which one was harder to sit through--but I know that THE ENTIRE FAMILY'S CORE TEMPERATURE has BARELY returned to normal.
And this picture, taken with me knitting with Gibbs on my chest last night was wonderful only because I had one dog on my chest and one on my lap and they were like little furry boob warmers, and since I'd almost frozen my tits off, that was a GO.
Also, as I said to my friend Greg, who got the gray and purple hat and mitts I showed here the other day, after spending the weekend experiencing REAL winter (and not even deep winter at that) I wanted to knit ALL of my friends in the northeast and midwest some alpaca/wool long underwear.
Because baby, that was cold outside.