Wednesday, November 12, 2008 9:11 PM CST
COLUMN: I wish the winter season would get cold feet this year about lower temps
By PENNY WEAVER, Night news editor
pweaver@jg-tc.com
I’m here to tell you — and I fully admit — that if I had been one of the early American pioneers, we just might not have made it.
It’s also probably safe to say that if I’d been an Indian — oops, I mean “Native American” — my tribe wouldn’t have survived unless we’d put up our tepees someplace warm like Florida.
I know it should be too early for me to complain about the cold. It’s really not even that bad yet. And with all our modern conveniences, I feel like a real wuss in lamenting the colder temperatures.
But I’m a wuss with cold feet.
That’s right — maybe some of you have the same cursed malady. My feet are perennially cold.
Heck, I don’t even dare quit wearing socks to bed until sometime in June. Any earlier, and my toes quickly turn into 10 stabbing icicles.
I don’t mind the cold so awfully much except for my cold feet. If I sit in my recliner for more than 30 minutes on these fall evenings — despite socks and thick house slippers on — my feet get cold and it makes me feel cold all over and seems impossible to get warm again.
Technically, it’s not my feet; it’s, specifically, my toes. I was mentally lamenting this severe hardship that I endure the other night, when I finally realized my line of thinking and began to laugh at myself.
Here I was, sitting in a comfy recliner in my snug little house, the furnace running as needed, with warm sweats on and a number of blankets within reach. The room was 65 degrees — gotta watch that power bill, you know, so I compromise between 60 and 68 — and all I had to do was push one button to warm it up in the entire house.
I imagine that if I had been an Indian, my name would have been “She-Who-Complains-About-Cold-Feet.” It doesn’t rhyme, but it’s accurate.
Think of how Native Americans, for example, had to struggle just to stay alive. They acquired or made every single thing they had with their own two hands. They hunted for meat, they skinned the animals for clothing to wear, they tanned the hides and sewed the buckskin.
And it’s not like they went to Dollar General and bought needles and thread. They made those things, too.
Every flame of warmth they had in the colder months came from wood that they cut and gathered themselves, or from buffalo chips on the Plains. Just imagine how much wood it takes to keep one thin-walled tepee warm when it’s below freezing outside.
I bet I would have burned out the toes of my moccasins keeping them too close to the fire.
Early American pioneers didn’t have much advantage in their treks across the continent and efforts to settle this land. I bet even the roughest automobile is infinitely more comfortable than bouncing around in the back of a wagon with wooden wheels as it bumped and jerked over the prairie.
I don’t think I’d have made it as a cowboy, either. I’m just sure my foot warmers wouldn’t fit inside my cowboy boots. And I bet the electric cord to my heating blanket would spook most mustangs.
Every time I’m at a wiener roast I’m reminded what a wimp I’d be if we had to go back to years past and heat our homes with a fireplace only. Stand there by the camp fire, and your front side might be warm or even hot, while your back side turns icy. Turn around, and you soon have the opposite problem.
Even just a few years ago, I’d have been hard-pressed to survive with no indoor plumbing, for example. I can imagine sitting on a cold wooden seat in December with the Sears catalog nearby, trying to decide whether to save one page or two before I burned the darn thing to keep my toes warm for a few minutes.
At least, I’ve reflected, I admit that I’m spoiled. I have warm flannel pajamas and I usually have two blankets on the bed at night. I have several pair of wool socks to layer over my regular socks in an attempt to keep my toes from completely turning to ice.
It does take some creativity to try to solve this cold feet problem. Anyone out there have a great solution? I’d love to hear it.
Having an electric blanket helps, but I really don’t need the warmth from neck to toe — just from heel to toe. Piles of blankets are a plus, but again, it’s like washing your entire car to get rid of one spot of a bird’s deposit on the hood.
I’ve tried three layers just on my feet: a pair of cotton socks, a pair of wool socks and thick, plush house slippers. I’ve tried toe warmers that heat up for a while once the package is opened.
But the warmth fades, and my toenails soon trend toward blue hues again.
My latest attempt at a solution is a heat pack that can be warmed up in the microwave. I’m anxiously awaiting its delivery via mail. I plan to zap it before bedtime and snuggle my feet under and around it and enjoy the warmth as I fall fast asleep.
At least, I can dream that it’ll work. I can also be glad that we have all the modern conveniences we do have to keep wimps like me comfortable.
The only other option is to hope that Old Man Winter changes his mind about cold temps this year. I know — he’s probably got cold feet already and it doesn’t bother him.
I wonder what his secret is. I bet even if I asked he wouldn’t tell me.
Now that’s cold.
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Mama says wrote on Nov 13, 2008 3:04 AM:
Indians heated rocks and put blanket
around it to keep warm. Grandpa was cherokee and told me a lot of stories. "