People in New Hampshire start looking for their winter coats
Posted by Raven on February 19th, 2007
This is all true.
60 above zero:
Arizonans turn on the heat.
People in New Hampshire plant gardens.50 above zero:
Southern Californians shiver uncontrollably.
People in New Hampshire sunbathe.40 above zero:
Some foreign-made cars won’t start.
People in New Hampshire drive with their windows down.32 above zero:
Distilled water freezes.
The water in New Hampshire merely gets thicker.20 above zero:
Floridians don coats, thermal underwear, gloves, wool hats.
People in New Hampshire throw on a flannel shirt.10 above zero:
New York landlords finally turn on the heat.
People in New Hampshire have their last cookout before it gets cold.Zero:
People in Miami start dying.
People in New Hampshire close the windows.10 below zero:
Californians fly south to Mexico.
People in New Hampshire start looking for their winter coats.20 below zero:
Hollywood disintegrates.
Girl Scouts in New Hampshire sell cookies door to door.40 below zero:
Washington, D.C., runs out of hot air.
People in New Hampshire let their dogs sleep indoors.120 below zero:
Santa Claus abandons the North Pole.
People in New Hampshire get upset because they can’t start their minivans.459 below zero:
ALL atomic motion stops (Absolute Zero).
People in New Hampshire note, “It’s getting wicked cold outside.”500 below zero:
Hell freezes over.
New Hampshire public schools will open 2 hours late.
Ok so the last couple are a bit of an exaggeration…but not much.
Whats the weather now? Sunny. COLD- 15 degrees. Overnight temps expected to hover ’round 5 degrees…soon as the sun sets.
What am I wearing? Jeans and a T shirt…and tonight my friends and I are having a cookout. We’ll don the flannels for that. It’s too warm for the winter coats.
Thank you Chan for the reminder of why New Hampshire is so damn HOT a state to live in…or should that be so damn COOL a state???
February 19th, 2007 at 8:45 pm
Drove up to north central Indiana two years ago (from my home in Pensacola) to spend Christmas with my mother. Think the date was around 21 December . . . snow in the ditches and along fence rows, but only a light sprinkling, maybe an inch, of fresh stuff. Just south of Indy along I-65 were guys playing golf on a muni. That’s GOTTA mess up your swing.
February 20th, 2007 at 10:04 am
Ahh we play mini golf all the time…in all weather. Rain, snow, sleet and blizzard. One can’t allow weather to interfere with the fun things in life!! LOL
February 20th, 2007 at 1:03 pm
No, not a “mini” course, a MUNI (municipal, city-owned/operated, full-sized, par 72). If I’m out there in the central Indiana countryside in late December wearing a down-filled jacket with fur-lined gloves and a parka hood, I won’t be carrying a 5 iron but a shootin iron. And the only birdies I’ll be after will be bobwhite quail and ringneck pheasant. of course if any Hasenpfeffers get in my way, well, I’d say about 4 would be par.
February 20th, 2007 at 3:26 pm
I’m not sure we have MUNI golf course around here?? There are plenty of private clubs…and lots of mini golf spots…but not a public place that I know of. LOL
February 21st, 2007 at 1:41 am
Raven, your temperature scale reminded of the old folk song called “The Frozen Logger”. It makes me wonder if he was of New Hampshire stock…
As I sat down one evening,
‘Twas in a small cafe,
A forty year-old waitress
To me these words did say:
I see that you are a logger,
And not just a common bum,
For no one but a logger
Stirs coffee with his thumb.
I once had a logger lover,
There’s none like him today.
If you poured whisky on it,
He’d eat a bail of hay.
He never shaved a whisker
Off of his horny hide;
He’d hammer in the bristles,
And bite them off inside.
My logger came to see me,
‘Twas on a winter’s day;
He held me in a fond embrace
That broke three vertebrae.
He kissed me when we parted
So hard it broke my jaw;
I couldn’t speak to tell him
He forgot his mackinaw.
I saw my logger lover
Go stridin’ through the snow,
A-goin’ gaily homeward
At forty-eight below.
The weather tried to freeze him,
It did its very best;
At a hundred degrees below zero,
He buttoned up his vest.
It froze clear down to China,
It froze to the stars above;
At a thousand degrees below zero,
It froze my logger love.
They tried in vain to thaw him,
And if you believe it, sir,
They made him into axe blades
To cut the Douglas Fir.
And so I lost my logger,
And to this cafe I’ve come,
And it’s here I wait for someone
To stir coffee with his thumb.
February 21st, 2007 at 8:36 am
LOL….I know loggers here in Cow Hampshire and they could care less about the weather, temps and ice. They are a dangerous breed…like fishermen…their work calls them IN SPITE of the weather.