It is a strange day in southern California when you wake up and the temperature reads 46 degrees. I’m not complaining, I spent 40-plus years in the Midwest and I still visit there regularly and prefer the softness of the air mattress over the possibility of being banished to the back porch to “suck it up and be a man you California wuss!”
Because we are wusses. People who are native Californians will try to tell you there are seasons here, but the sun does strange things to your head so I think it’s just the long term effects. I have never seen a more fearful expression on a human being’s face than when a young woman asked me what winter is like, she was considering going to Northwestern University, and I said “do you have any idea what a wind chill of twenty five degrees below zero feels like.”
The horror crept into her face the way a smile creeps onto the face of a Scrooge. She had to let it seep in, she had to calculate the fact that she probably has to wear a heavy coat when it hits 50 here so how many layers were required to insulate her body from that temperature. Now that I think of it, maybe her face looked that way because she was trapped in a math loop carrying the decimal.
But you see “business casual” in Los Angeles means shorts and a t-shirt. So it is just strange not to don that in the morning. Yes, yes, I know you’re going to react with “come on!” I’m just saying that I love a life lived in shorts. Easier footwear selection, easier to wash, you never even consider ironing shorts, and one pair of khakis goes with everything. And it’s just what I’m used to.
Really that’s all. It’s just what you’re used to. And we want it perfect. When it’s cold, people want it warm, when it’s hot people want it cooler. The fact is, we’re all wusses.
But…I wrote a blog on Tuesday about how my inner Christmas jukebox only plays two songs and this morning I’m humming “White Christmas.” And it’s probably all due to the cold.
With the entire Punxsutawney clan having been raised in captivity for years, they finally wisened up to the service they provide and the retroactive wages they are due. Bob said in a statement “there are hundreds, maybe thousands, I don’t know it’s hard to count on these claws, people on TV reporting the weather, getting paid lots of money to make their fur look the way it looks. And their forecasts are completely unreliable. We’ve hit 96%.”
The GHU (Groundhog Union) simply wants to be reimbursed for their time and accuracy. They think they deserve a couple of nice nights out at some of the fancier raw food eateries and they want security beefed up for their brethren who are still out in the wild trying to ditch the wolves, coyotes, foxes, bobcats, bears, large hawks and dogs that want to eat them.
General Lee does not want any intervention and believes that the groundhogs can live any way they want and should not be influenced by any government or corporate agenda. His stand is that the groundhogs themselves should take over the unveiling of the future of winter and allow the lesser of the population deliver the message while they remain safely ensconced in their burrows. They will sell their prediction for a set amount and take care of their own property and concerns.
He’s got a small but loyal following but officials are working with the Union in an attempt to come to an agreement by midnight tonight so the brightest and best of the groundhogs will still perform their duty and see if they see their shadow.