Blankets, books, and my nose

It is officially COLD in eastern Tennessee. Seriously cold. Tonight it is dropping down to 37 degrees. I've been spending a lot of time putting on more layers and curling up under blankets. I am in bed, because that's where the warmest blankets are, and the best thing to do in bed (besides sleep) is read a good book.


This week I'm reading The Little White Horse, by Elizabeth Gouge. If you haven't read it yet, you should. It is about a little girl who goes to live with her cousin in the English countryside in the mid 1800's. Their estate is in a secret valley, secluded from the outside world. The family has lived there for generations and they have many secrets. I have not finished it yet, but something mysterious and magical is about to jump off of the page.


The tip of my nose, as I am typing, is going numb. I always forget during the warmer months that I spend the entire winter without being able to fully feel the end of my nose. For most people it wouldn't be a bother, because we so very seldom use our noses to do much more than smell, but I am rather fond of mine.


When I was little and Mom and Dad would put me to bed, they would give me Eskimo kisses (where you rub your noses together) and tell me they loved me. Mr Rogers' Neighborhood was my favorite show when I was little, and there was a little tiger named Daniel who lived in a grandfather clock, loved to play peek-a-boo and gave Eskimo kisses to Lady Aberlin, saying "nosy, nosy, nosy."


Anyway, Mom and Dad would give me Eskimo kisses and tell me they loved me every night before I would fall asleep, and I came to associate my nose being touched with feeling loved. So, as an adult, whenever I feel sad or lonely or thoughtful, I touch my nose for reassurance. I know it's odd. When my nose is cold I just want to touch it more, and a girl can't just walk around in public with her hand over her face. It would look like there was something wrong, like I was Penelope or something. The only other alternative is to wear a ski mask, and then I would look like a robber. And I don't want to look like Penelope or a robber, so my nose is just cold...

I wore lots of layers to the office today, because none of the boys I work with are as cold as I am and they won't let me turn the heat up. I wore leggings, boots, a blouse, a wool dress, a wrap and a velvet ribbon in my hair (which didn't make me any warmer, but it looked cute). I even had on fuzzy gloves when I first came in, but I found it impossible to type or use the phone while wearing them, so I had to take them off. I am a bit silly, I know, but I want to be comfortable.


This is my office with my giant, fabulous plant. It came with the office, but it was nearly dead and I revived it, so it is mine now. When you save something's life it thus belongs to you (a plant, an animal, an orphaned child, etc). The plant is quickly becoming a tree. I think it needs a name, so if you have any witty ideas, please pass them along. Otherwise, I will continue referring to it as, "The Plant."



It is nearly eleven o'clock here, and even on a Friday night that is late for me. I am going to put myself to bed, tuck myself in, rub my nose and tell myself that my family loves me before I fall asleep to sweet dreams... I wish you the same.

I love you!

Until next time...

FYI, Mr Rogers' Neighborhood has just been pulled from PBS's regular schedule as of September 1st, 2008. It has been PBS's longest running show ever.