Notes from the Frozen Tundra

{Scarlett here}

It looks like we have a little S family reunion going on in this blog! Awesome.

We started Wild and Precious because we wanted to show the worldviews of two best friends who lead very different lives. Our friends are a huge part of our lives and we love it when you come and write for us. Gator, you're welcome here anytime.

For those of you who came today for a glimpse of daily life in the nation's capital, glimpse this: my car has been in the body shop for the past week and a half due to an accidental run in with a parking garage wall. I have been relying on the charity and goodwill of my friends who've offered me rides to work, Target, and even the hair salon (thank you Little JS). I'd never let a minor car accident stand in the way of my highlights.

Ahem.

Today I couldn't partake of my friends' benevolence because I had an all-day conference to attend. Instead, I had to rely on public transportation. Normally I don't mind that (too much). There's a bus stop a block-ish from my apartment that takes me to a metro stop where I can catch a train to almost anywhere in the city. However, the temperature today is 23 degrees with a windchill of 8. At that point, I'm not quite sure how they distinguish between 8 degrees and, say, 5. It might as well have been 30 below for all I care. It was miserably, horribly, nose runningly, toe freezingly, teeth chatteringly cold.

I hate the cold and I hate snow. When it's so cold that your face hurts when you step outside, that's unnatural. I've been battling the mother of all headcolds and was not looking forward to exposing myself to the elements in my weakened condition. At any rate, I rose to the occasion by doing what any good Washingtonian would do -- I layered my powersuit with cold weather gear: a bright yellow scarf, red leather gloves, a new bucket hat with a jaunty bow on the side, and dangly earrings, for morale (mine). I slathered on a double layer of lip balm, tightened the belt of my knee-length overcoat (Gap, last season), steeled my resolve, and stepped out the front door of my apartment building.

I was immediately met with an icy gust of wind. The block and a half walk to the bus stop was not for the faint of heart. At one point in the middle of the crosswalk, I had to hold my hat on my head with my gloved hand to keep it from flying off. By the time I made it to the bus stop, the wind had driven into my ears like icy nails. They felt more like ice cubes affixed to my head (accessorized with stylish jewelry, of course.) When the bus finally came, I shuffled my frozen legs up the bus steps and attempted to wrestle my bus pass from the bottom of my purse with my gloved hands. That is impossible to do. I had to pry one glove off with my teeth and then jiggle my purse till I could get the pass unraveled from a pile of kleenex.

There was just enough time on the bus ride for me to regain feeling in my face before I had to get off and shove onto a metro with a thousand of my closest (sniffling and sneezing) friends.

I braved the cold once more to hop on another bus at the metro stop to take me to the conference. At that point, I think I lost feeling in my cheeks. After the conference, I did the whole thing again in reverse. My nose feels a little like plywood with splinters but at least I lived to tell the tale. Now I'm back in my apartment, cozy and warm with plenty of tea in the pantry, a radio station that plays nothing but Christmas music and a good book to read.

Maybe that sounds like a boring, low-key night in the city, but tomorrow evening I have a networking happy hour at a swanky bar that serves Vermont cheddar apple pizza. (HelLO, delicious.) All I'll have to do is get on the *#)$% bus to get there.

Rumor has it that our friend Scout is also under the weather. Hugs to you, friend, and here's hoping for your speedy recovery!