Last night, for the first time since I was fifteen, I went to a high school football game. The actual temperature was around twenty-seven degrees, but the windchill hovered near twenty.
Knowing it was going to be really cold, like anyone with a lick of sense, I went prepared. Overly prepared, I thought. A pair of warm sweat pants over my leggings. A heavy hooded coat, fleece-lined mittens, a knit scarf, a hat (which I forgot in the van), and two fleece blankets. Seriously, I could have given an Eskimo an run for his or her money.
Except for the beard and mustache, this was pretty much me last night…
Photo Credit: Morguefile.com
But even though I sat on one folded blanket, had the scarf wrapped around my head and neck (with the hood up). and was wrapped up in the other blanket … I was freezing! (yes, I looked like a dork)
I tried to tough it out, but my daughter and I wound up leaving partway through the third quarter to sit in the van. The rest of the crew followed shortly thereafter – and it took me far longer than the two hours in the bleachers to warm back up again.
So I think that’s a part of the past I’ll not revisit again. At least not in the middle of November in Michigan. I don’t even like sports (any sports).
Just one more quick note here. Maybe I have the wrong ones, but the fleece-lined mittens that felt so warm in store the day I bought them … pretty useless after ten minutes in the bleachers in a twenty-degree windchill.