Before I begin, let me tell you that I am not a weather wuss. I lived in Iowa for several years and it was no picnic, but I adjusted admirably, even gaining the respect of a native Iowan when he caught me taking off my jacket and sweater during an afternoon walk when it was a balmy 36 degrees Fahrenheit.
But friends, I no longer live in Iowa. I'm in Kahlleefohnia, as our governor likes to call it. And I am not happy about the weekend's forecast. Let's take a look at sunrise tomorrow, shall we?
This is unacceptable, especially since I'm supposed to take Luke out for a toddler activity (indoors, but still, the travel will be yucky) at 8:45 a.m.
Dear Weather Gods,
If NYC can be 72 degrees in January, then the Big Tomato should be at least 60. That's all I'm sayin'.
Yours in icy windshields,