It’s not the cold, it’s the humidity

If I were to describe my visit to Oregon, it would be:

For those three days, I was colder than I have ever been in my life.

The weather was wet. Understandable. It is the Pacific Northwest, after all.

The grass was green. Flowers were blooming in some areas. New shoots of daffodils and crocus were sprouting.

The daytime temperatures were in the 50’s F.

For me, who lives in a place where the current average daytime temperature is 31F, I believe that I was somewhat justified in my hope to feel some spring-like warmth during my visit.

But those 50F days felt colder than any 0F day we have here.

It was windy along with being wet. The cold pierced clothing, and wrapped itself around me like a blanket soaked in ice water. The only times that I felt warm were when I was under the covers in bed, and in the shower.

Being inside a building did not help. Husband’s 92-year-old aunt had her thermostat set at 60F. She wears long underwear from Sept to April, according to her daughter. If only I’d known that ahead of time. We sat in her living room, huddled under blankets as we chatted. She did not turn up the thermostat based on our thin-blooded discomfort.

Daughter and the professor’s house was a relatively balmy 68F. But that didn’t help me much. I never removed my coat the entire time we were there.

Okay, I suppose you could say that I am a wimp. But keep in mind that I am at “that age”, the time when I more often than not will complain of being hot. I have begun to realize that I sweat. Husband and I have flip-flopped our internal thermostats over the past few years. I used to be the one who was always cold, and he was usually hot. More recently, I am visibly distressed and too hot, he is the one who is turning up the thermostat in our home.

But even I, queen of mid-life hormonal body warming, was overwhelmed by the February weather of Oregon.

When we returned home last night, the city was covered in nearly 3 inches of snow.

Thank goodness!

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