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Texas ≠ Cold

I’m afraid that I am becoming a “grumpy old man.” Well, maybe not so much “afraid” as “cautiously aware.” Basically, I complain too much. (Jeez, I hope my wife doesn’t read this. Talk about pouring fuel on the fire.)

It’s winter in DFW and, as per usual, the locals moan and grouse whenever the daily high temperature fails to crest 60 degrees. Generally, I tell them to shut their pie-holes, that I like the chill air, and point out the ignorance of saying, “it’s freezing,” when, in fact, it is a good 20 degrees above freezing. 50 is not “freezing.” THIS is “freezing”:

So, if you can’t throw boiling water and make snow, I don’t want to hear any complaining about your flip-flops and cheer shorts not keeping you toasty in January! Now, get off my lawn!

That said, I have to admit, I’ve enjoyed the last couple of 70 degree days. And sunset is now late enough I’ve been able to ride Thumper to work. (Insert “glee” sound muffled under my old-grump-ness.)

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