The weather is still so cold. It sends chills through my tiny little spine. My mother stands but five foot tall. I loom over her by at least six inches, on a good day eight inches. And although I didn't recieve her genes in that sense, I was not-so-blessed with her unbelievably cold feet and hands. Either I have the worst circulation of blood known to man kind or my feet and hands are just naturally freezing cold. Needless to say my mukluks can only do so much. If there is no body heat to be stored then they shall be just as cold as the snow around them. Needless to say my feet offered no bit of warmth today and in which my mukluks let the arctic air around swarm to my toes. Oh how they sting. I'm warming them tenderly by the woodstove. Fingers crossed they do not turn blue. How dare my mother pass on her cold feet to me. Did she not know I would escape to Alaska and have to live with her defaulted genes in the most unforgiving of enviornments?
