Winter is coming. Everyone keeps talking about it. Winter means a lot of rain and flooding. And cold. Of course, cold is still relative since I don’t think the temperature drops below 60 degrees during the day here. And it’s downright hot in the sun at this altitude. Esteban and I were watching a movie last night that was set in NYC in the winter. As I saw scenes of people scurrying around in the snow, bundled up against the cold, I was downright giddy that we don’t have to deal with it this year. I know there are people who love the seasons but I am not one of them. I like it when it’s warm. Esteban, who lived in Venezuela for eight years, tells me how boring it is when it’s sunny and 80 every day. I want to know what it feels like to be tired of great weather.
The locals meanwhile complain a lot about the cold. I have come to the conclusion that people always complain about the weather no matter where they live. Our nanny called me the other day to ask what she should do because it was rainy and cold (about 65 degrees) and she had to pick up Jade from school. Should she bundle up the baby? I laughed thinking of how last winter, six month old Saige napped in a baby carrier on my back as I took the older girls sledding in 20 degree weather. It was windy and cold and my friend Anne and I trudged through knee deep snow so that the motion would rock Saige to sleep. I told our nannynot to worry about it: Saige can handle the cold here. All jokes aside, the only challenge is to get our nanny to go outside with Saige when the weather drops below 65. Aye, que frio!