A week in which I transformed into an iguana: paralyzed by the arctic blast. I’m the first to cheer when the temperatures drop into the sixties, and even the fifties (nothing like a vigorous walk without having to shower off again ), but wind chills in the twenties are a bit more than I bargained for. Especially now that, after eleven years, my blood has officially thinned. While I’m not falling out of trees or being rescued from the middle of the road, I am spending lots of
