Confessions of a Wimpy Weenie Desert Rat

This is ridiculous.
I am sitting on the floor by my fireplace. I am wearing a long-sleeved black t-shirt under a fleece hoodie sweatshirt emblazoned with the name of my school, red sweat pants, stripey socks, and my shearling-lined slippers.
I'm seriously considering a second pair of socks.
Do I need to remind somebody that this is the DESERT?!?
If this is what they call global warming, we're really in trouble. Not only are the polar icecaps melting because we're selfishly insistent on burning fossil fuels, but the scientific community can't tell their hot from cold.
Now, I'm a tree-hugger from way back. Since that first Ranger Rick magazine made its way to my mailbox when I was in the third grade, I've been acutely aware and continually reminded of the foolhardiness of the human race-- and Americans in particular- when it comes to taking care of this planet.
"I, (state your name), as a member of Ranger Rick's Nature Club do hereby promise to:
Train my mind to think about the importance of nature,
Train my eyes to see the beauty of all outdoors,
Use my hands to protect soil, woods, water and wildlife,
And by my good example, help others to understand, respect, and…" aw, hell. I forgot the rest.
Sometimes on Saturday mornings after we'd done our chores, my mom would let a group of our friends come over and we would have a meeting in the basement. I was the president, because I was the oldest, I was the bossiest, and it was my house. We would stand up and say the pledge. We would read a story out loud from the magazine. We would talk about various plans to hold bake sales to buy official NWF Ranger Rick badges, get in boisterous arguments about who should bring what for said bake sale, whether we would make more money at Hy-Vee or Fareway, how long my term as president should run because just because you're president doesn't make you the boss of everything, you know; and eventually the door at the top of the stairs would open, and we'd hear Mom call, "Girls! Come and get these sacks and go for a walk around the neighborhood. You're here to be a nature club. Stop bickering and go pick up litter." So we did, and that was fun.
Never did get those badges.
I know the rest of you are having weird weather this winter too. I talked to my sister Kathy last night, and Des Moines should be getting their first snowfall of the year right…..about………..now. We had a few "brown Christmases" when I was growing up, especially when we lived in the southern part of the state, but there had usually been snow earlier in the season. And there was never anything like the balmy light-sweater weather they've experienced this year. I've seen An Inconvenient Truth. This is more than a little scary.
I know I risk making a laughingstock of myself by admitting this, but my AOL weather tells me it's 43° right now, but "feels like" 37. We have a freeze warning in effect tonight.
There go your lettuce prices. And your orange juice.
When we first came to Yuma twenty-two years ago, I was a thick-blooded, cocky Northerner. I ran around in my shorts all winter and swam in the pool at our first apartment complex in January. I observed the natives with a smug little half-smirk and felt morally superior because--HA! Are you kidding me? She's wearing mittens?-- they obviously couldn't begin to fathom the word "cold." Those wimpy fools would curl up and die with five minutes of exposure to a real Northwest Iowa January. Seventy-five below zero wind chill, that's what I call cold. What a bunch of weenies. I'll bet they're not cold at all, they just want to wear winter fashions.
Tell you what-- I'm no fashion plate here tonight.
Karma's a bitch.
Quick! Go recycle something!
Please?!?!