Woke up this morning to 15 degrees above and overcast skies. Yes, I realize that Winter is on its way, but when my vehicle's doors wouldn't open on Thanksgiving night without a little extra tug (yes, car doors sometimes freeze shut here in the Upper Midwest), I realized why I'm not a permanent resident of the Dairy State.
Tea-Partiers will tell you that "out here" the folks are friendly, they're honest and they're always willing to help. True, but Our Nation's Capital has one up on the hinterlands. Thanksgiving in DC, the city those folks love to hate, usually hangs around the 60s, and in some cases has busted out into the 80s for Turkey Day. Yesterday when I took my pre-dinner stroll, DC's temps were about 50 degrees warmer than the canyons of Madison's State Street.
I'm headed back today into chillier-than-normal temps, I'm told. But tomorrow, when the rest of La Familia Scribe is braving the crowds and the cold (highs in the mid-30s) at the University of Wisconsin-Northwestern game, I'll be snuggled up with Pepper the Cat and a batch of student papers. The above snap, BTW, features a reflection of the weather in the campus building next door to historic Camp Randall Stadium.
There's no place like home, correctamundo?