Good morning. ☕☕☕
14 December 2025
I look out my office window and my first thought is, “don’t go out there.” The sky is gray, and nothing is moving—not even a mouse. 😂 It’s 42°F, not terribly cold yet, but there’s a freeze warning for tonight. The forecast says it will drop to 26°F.
In the Army and Marines, when stationed in places where the cold was brutal, they issued a pair of boots we called Mickey Mouse boots. Heavily insulated, they looked like cartoon feet—big, rounded, and clumsy. They were meant for survival in extreme cold, but the warning always came with them: don’t wear them too much. If you did, your feet would sweat, and that trapped moisture could turn against you, causing cold-weather injuries.
Still, they had their place. If you were standing guard at an ammunition depot in the middle of nowhere—say, on Mount Fuji in the snow—they were a blessing. But they weren’t recommended for road marching. Infantrymen rarely carried them anyway. When you walk everywhere, you become selective about what goes in your pack. Niceties don’t make the cut—only essentials.
Back to the present: cold weather has its own paradox. Snow is beautiful when seen from a heated room through a window. But if you have to live in it for days or weeks, beauty gives way to endurance. In those moments, finding someplace warm—even for a few minutes—feels like a rare and sovereign gift.
“What good is the warmth of summer, without the cold of winter to give it sweetness.” — John Steinbeck
“When you see someone putting on his Big Boots, you can be pretty sure that an Adventure is going to happen.” — A. A. Milne
“Welcome, winter. Your late dawns and chilled breath make me lazy, but I love you nonetheless.” — Terri Guillemets
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