It's that friggin freezing season again (or Sayonara sandals sans socks)

I was riding the bike the other evening (No, not the night of the dead deer; the following night) and my hands were sending strange signals to my brain.  Brain had some trouble interpreting those signals, because it hadn't heard  them in a very very long time.  But after a while there was no longer any way of denying the message: We Want Gloves is what it said. 



Actually Siberia looks a lot like Canada ! (not my pic)

Cycling Gloves?  In September?  Where am I? Siberia?









More messages arrived, this time from my feet.  We Want Socks is what they said.  And this is a BIG deal. My feet haven't worn socks since just before visiting Venice Beach in April.  And they were happy feet ;-)  

An addendum added 2 years later:  It's not just my feet and hands that are NOT happy here.  It's my back, my skin, my hair, my stubble, and most importantly my head.  Since Grandpa died, I've given Grandma 7 years.  I can't remember when I last felt as miserable as during the last 2 weeks.  I have realized that it is impossible for me to care of her in her present state without giving up my life.  Time for some selfishness or common sense to kick in.