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I've enjoyed a fine couple of days in Oklahoma City. Christmas was lovely, if low-key (my eldest niece and nephew spent Christmas with their in-laws, so there were no young children on hand, and my eldest sister remained in Tulsa for the day), and yesterday I spent the day at home with Mom.
And things will get even better on Thursday, when my Flo jets in from NYC. I'm looking forward to showing her around my hometown a bit and introducing her to family and old friends.
But so far, the image I'll retain from this sojourn will be something I witnessed yesterday. I looked out the kitchen window at my parents' house and saw that four or five kids -- all between the ages of seven and ten years, I would guess -- were swimming in the neighbors' outdoor pool.
I walked over to the computer to check the temperature: It was 48 degrees outside.
"Oh, that pool's heated," both my parents explained when I mentioned what I'd seen.
But these kids weren't staying underwater. They were lounging on floats and scampering about on the concrete before diving in again and generally behaving as children -- and adults, for that matter -- do poolside.
Forty-eight degrees. I'm shivering even now, as I type this.