Pants on Fire

I really hate the cold.
Passionately hate being cold.
Whoever said that Pennsylvania isn't cold - was Lying.
As in Pants on Fire.
If I had me some telephone wire right about now...
I'd be all for stringing their sorry asses up with it.
Believe you me.

It's 16 degrees out at the moment and with the humidity it feels like 7.
I am absolutely freezing.
Being cold makes me grouchy.
So sadly, I'm too grouchy to write about all the fun we're having watching Flynn blaze a trail from one side of the house to the other. How, although he still hasn't completely mastered sitting without propping himself up with an arm, he is actively pulling himself up on his knees with 85% accuracy. I'm also too cold to note how he is already opening all the doors and drawers that are within his reach. Too chilled to the bone to think about the fact that this busy little bugger is only 9 months old. Yipes...

and with that, I'm off to set my electric blanket to 'Cook' and to curl up under 14 Quilts.