It's my fault.
The weather. It's my fault.
If you hadn't noticed, the weather changed about ten seconds after a certain 7-year old opened her gift from Santa. Santa instructed an elf to put together a full-size FOR REAL basketball goal for the driveway. It was a genius idea for a gift that came straight from Alexis' list, but there were other choices. There were other choices that wouldn't have caused a cold spell.
So now the basketball goal sits on the patio, covered with snow and on its side because ZOMG THE WIND LATELY. It can't be set upright until water is poured in the base, and that can't happen until it warms up a bit.
See? Totally my fault.
The truly annoying thing about the whole situation is that I want to go out and play. As I was complaining about this very fact to Alexis earlier tonight, I realized that her childhood is SO very different than mine. She replied to my complaining by saying it was too cold to play basketball and HOW DOES A CHILD OF MINE NOT KNOW BETTER?
One thing led to another and before she knew it, Alexis was getting an earful about how it was PERFECT weather to play outside. I'm not kidding. When you grow up in North Dakota, you learn to appreciate windchills above -30 degrees. A little common sense will go a long way in making it perfectly safe to be outside in that sort of weather, so I spent all of my childhood sledding, ice skating, and even playing basketball in the driveway when it was well below zero.
No joke. No exaggeration. We played outside in weather like today's.
Alexis, of course, was completely blown away by this fact. She particularily was interested in the part where we ice skated outside, so I proceeded to tell her about how there was a low spot in our backyard. That low spot collected water, and in the winter, it froze over and stayed frozen. I spent hours and hours and hours skating on that little patch of ice.
I spent even more hours skating on the Mouse River. It freezes over completely and stays frozen in North Dakota, so as kids we would trudge down to it to skate.
The best ice, however, was at the hockey rinks. There were five or six outdoor rinks in the town where I grew up. They got used all through the winter. I spent night after night spinning and weaving Figure Eights. A negative sign before the temperature didn't mean we couldn't go out and skate -- it actually meant the ice would be in better shape. A little hot water and a squeegee could fix any crack, and if it was cold enough, the new water would freeze quickly and fully heal the ice.
Alexis has skated at an outdoor rink exactly once. Every other time we've tried to go, it has been too warm for the ice to be any good.
I do believe my generation will be the last to be able to say that we trudged "uphill both ways through six feet of snow" when we were headed to school. This next generation only knows about cancellations and delays and staying inside when it's a wee bit chilly outside.
But, given that this one likes to throw snow in her own face, there is at least a bit of hope for the future.