We woke this morning to a temperature of negative seven. And life went on as usual. That's how it goes here, even though my Southern soul rails against it, and my fingertips are on fire with icy stabbing pain 10 steps down our short driveway when I go to pick up the mail mid-day. Bean comes home from school later in the day, drops her grubby, well-worn gloves on the kitchen counter, passes right by the thermometer that reads negative two (!!!), and goes on about her business as if this is all just completely normal.