Winter blew in this week.
I am not complaining. This is Edmonton and it is mid-November, and this is how it is.
But when the cold started, the real cold, the windy, unrelenting, soul sucking cold began, as it eventually does every year?
This year, something snapped.
You see, even though I accept the cold, I don’t adapt for it. I bundle my children up in 16 layers of binding, windproof clothing. And then I go out with no more than a slightly heavier jacket, maybe a pair of gloves as my only concessions.
Am I trying to prove how bad ass I really can be? Am I refusing to capitulate to that gutless whore, Mother Nature? Am I still trying to get over being teased by an older kid on the bus over my beyond words ugly, pom pom festooned toque, with matching orange scarf and mitts? (And on a side note: I was thinking about this kid today. He was a god damn ginger with a weird name. There was no freaking way he should have been able to make fun of me. Ah, perspective.) Or is it the fact that I LOOK BEYOND STUPID IN ANY FORM OF HAT?
Whatever the case, I’m done.
I want a toque.
Sounds simple, right?
I’ve tried toques with roll up edges. Too fattening. Toques with no edges. Made me look like Bert from Sesame Street. Fleece toques caused flyaway hair. I couldn’t carry off pom poms, ear flaps, strings or brims. I am not cool/quirky/weird enough to carry any of them off.
But I am sick of losing body heat through the top of my head.
I need the perfect toque.
So on this, my 3rd STRAIGHT day of blogging again, I implore you.
Help me find a toque. The perfect toque. The toque that when you see it, it makes you say “Oh HELLS yes, that needs to go on Ginny’s head, post-haste. I will take a picture and send it to her and tell her where to get it and she will be ridiculously, perpetually, eternally grateful.”