This one, Jackie Mudpie, has been sedentary these winter months.
I’ve taken her for walks a few times, but many cold or wet days I’ve walked in the mall — while she has spent her time in various stages of meditation on the living room couch.
And now, on a warm Sunday afternoon in late February, as I get outside for a brisk walk, I’m one year older.
In dog years, she’s aged much more. She’s seven years older — a bit flabby, out of shape, and dragging.
That’s okay.
I plan to give her lots of exercise these next few weeks. By June, she’ll be chasing birds again.
And in July, I won’t have the heart to expose her to the heat — so she’ll be back on the couch.
My daughter Sarah, who we have not seen in almost a year, has navigated the highways and airways and airports between Fairbanks, Alaska and Salisbury, North Carolina — and is now home for a visit.
She’s presently taking a nap on our couch. It’s nice to have her home.
When I first saw her, it didn’t take but a few minutes before I said what I say almost every time I talk with her:
“Why don’t you move back here?”
I know she enjoys her life there, and the good work she does as an advocate for battered women. But is it a crime for a father to ask? It’s a long ways to Fairbanks, and we miss her.
This time, my timing was off. This afternoon, on September 24, it was 94 degrees.
“It’s too hot here,” she said.
She was sweating.
I had been out all day delivering papers, and I was pretty hot myself.
“This isn’t normal,” I said. “It’ll cool off in a few days.”
“You don’t believe in climate change?”
I told her that of course I believe in climate change (not because I know anything about it, but because I believe the scientists know what they’re talking about, and I’ve seen some of the evidence they’ve put forth).
“But this isn’t climate change,” I said. “This is weather.”
She said she flew over a lot of mountains that should have been snow covered that weren’t.
Christmas before last, she and my son, Aaron, took a trip to Israel together with the Birthright Israel program. While they were there, the Gaza War broke out and dominated the news of the day.
At one point, Sarah sent me a text message: “Aren’t you worried about us?”
Main Street Fairbanks in Winter
“No,” I answered. “I worry about you in Fairbanks when it’s 40 below.”
This is not an exaggeration. I check the Fairbanks weather almost every day, and it’s not that unusual to see a high for the day at -20 and low of -40.
That worries me.
Thankfully, things are supposed to cool here off this weekend.
Lately, it’s been pretty cold. I’m not that surprised, since it’s January.
Things I like about this cold weather:
1. It’s North Carolina. Even the coldest temperatures aren’t all that cold.
2. Feels that much better when it hits 65 degrees (soon).
3. Sort of crisp and bright and refreshing.
4. Makes a hot shower that much better.
5. Make a hot cup of coffee or tea that much better.
6. The air seems cleaner.
7. No worries about the fact that the air-conditioner in my car no longer works.
8. It’s cozy.
Things I don’t like about this cold weather:
1. Next month’s gas bill.
2. Exercising inside.
3. Waiting for the car to heat up.
4. Next month’s gas bill.
Daughter Sarah is coming home for a two week visit. We pick her up at the Charlotte airport tomorrow night (tonight, technically, since it’s after midnight now).
According to my phone, here’s the weather forecast where she lives, in Fairbanks Alaska:
Weather in Fairbanks
Here’s the forecast here in Salisbury:
weather in Salisbury
She’ll probably be walking around barefoot, complaining about the heat and humidity.
