Wool Socks (Or, Why Do Moms Eat Sandwich Crusts?)
I’ve always had a pretty deep seated dislike for winter. Mostly because I’m always cold and Steve’s always hot, and, well, open windows in the middle of January makes me cranky. Living in a neighborhood less than 15 minutes from almost anywhere we wanted or needed to be, I got used to dressing rather inappropriately for the weather. Hair doesn’t fit under a hat today? No biggie, the car heats up pretty fast. Can’t find my gloves? Oh well, it’s…