It has been amazingly and unseasonably cold here the past few days. We haven't made it out of the 20's for several days. I was driving home from a church activity last night and my little car thermometer registered 14 degrees. Even for a person who really loves the colder weather, that's too cold!
And a gripe from me. I've been trying to mail DS#3 (who is in the Ukraine as a missionary) a Christmas box. We have carefully gathered a selection of the favorite things he can't get over there (Cap'n Crunch, peanut butter, granola bars), and Monday night we wrapped them for Family Home Evening. I trundle off to the post office on Tuesday, and for the first time in three missionaries worth of packages, a little man behind the counter opens a book of import restrictions. Now, I have been honest on the customs slip about what is in the box AND I have sent all of the things listed and never been questioned before. Three trips to the post office over the course of two days later, after opening my carefully-taped box, extracting some of the more obvious contents (like the box of mac and cheese that really rattles) and filling out more customs forms, I finally got them to accept it. No one can tell me why all of a sudden they're checking those import restrictions, or why all the stuff has gone through before, but I hope poor boy gets his peanut butter and granola bars! The icing on the cake? A phone message left after I get home from the third post office excursion, "We have two packages for you here at the post office that your carrier couldn't fit into her car. Can you come and pick them up?"