Walkin' in a winter wonderland

When it comes to people who don't live in Florida, there are two types: Those who don't believe it ever gets cold in Florida and Those who are willing to admit it might get chilly once in a while but don't come bitchin' to me about it until you're shovelling your way through an ass-high snow drift to find your mailbox, and in the meantime, good! Serves you right! Normally, I agree with both groups, at least to an extent. I've been here for over 20 years and my blood has yet to thin out. The handful of days when it's not like the bottom shelf of Satan's junior high gym locker outside keep me from going on murderous shooting sprees the 355 days a year when it is. When most of my neighbors say it's cold, I'm opening the windows in my apartment and lovin' life.
But right now, folks, it's cold. As I type this, my computer says it's 37 degrees outside. And I don't care where you live, when the temperature is two digits and the first one is a 3, that means you're within a stiff breeze of liquids turning solid which allows you to say It Is Cold. It's been this way for about four days and is supposed to continue for another week or so. This is the coldest, longest streak of such weather that I can remember since I've been here. So to document the occasion, I went out and took pictures of people in Tampa in their winter's finest (which I've mentioned before that I don't know where people get, or keep, this stuff). Some, maybe even many, of you will laugh. That's okay. At any rate, here they are...

In poker, they say "Go big or go home". In parkas, they say "Go big and go home".

"Bah! I'm in Florida, I'm wearing shorts. This isn't cold! You want to see cold? Why, in Bloomington we had to blah blah blah yak yak yak (Sweet Mary Mother of God, get me indoors before my legs snap off at the ankles!)"

"My...my ear! What happened to my ear? I had one, right here, on this side of my head! Jason, where's my ear?"
"Neither me nor my sweater vest are listening to you, Melissa!"

This has nothing to do with cold weather in Tampa; I just want to go on record as saying that I like how you ladies are rockin' the knee-high boots these days. Very, very nice!

When your hood is bigger than the rest of the jacket, you don't even notice how cold it is.

In August, everybody in the office laughed at Margaret for ordering a cold-weather Buccaneers jacket. Now they just laugh at her because it's a Buccaneers jacket.

Layers. Dressing for the cold is all about the layers. This is actually an 8-year-old child effectively utilizing layers, including facial hair, to stay warm.

If that ponytail were eight inches longer, she wouldn't even need the scarf.

Winter clothing doesn't have to cramp your sense of style. Isn't that right, star spangled, goofy lookin' socks wearin' jackass?

If you've bundled up so much that it's impossible for a stranger to determine your gender from a short distance away, you've done it right, ma'am...or sir.

Not all the Unabomber's ideas were crazy. Exhibit A: The Hoodie.

The other day a guy at work wanted to talk about the weather and football and said "You know who I feel sorry for? The football players who have to go out and play in these conditions. Oh man! That has got to be just brutal!". I said, "You know who I feel sorry for? The homeless." After he said, "Well, yeah", the conversation was over. I wasn't really trying to make any kind of profound statement; I just didn't want to talk to him about the weather or football. But still. That is brutal.

The ham-and-eggers who work outdoors can't let the weather keep them from doing what they do. Good old reliable denim ensemble for cutting cinder blocks...

...or good ol' reliable leather fetishwear for protesting the circus.