Usually, while temperatures such as these are present, we [Levi and I, of course] try to stay inside as much as possible. Bundled up and huddled together next to the space heater, to be exact. We don't make it outside much. When we do, we try to assume that Arizona will live up to it's reputation of warmer temps [or that the truck's heater will be instantly ready for us] and we usually just throw on [maybe] a long sleeve shirt. We hurry from the truck to [where ever it is we're going], then back to the truck, then back into the warm house and usually, we survive it. But then usually, we don't have family visiting from fifteen hundred miles away.
The other night, as we stopped to pick up some [warm] pizza from Oregano's, we got a call from Levi's brother [in-law] who had been in town that week from Seattle. He was down the street wondering where another family member lived because he had something to give them before he headed home. However, they lived rather far away and since we see them every Sunday anyway, we went ahead and offered to meet him in the Oregano's parking lot, pick up the [thing] and give it to the family member in wait, that coming Sunday - tomorrow.
Anyways, we ended up doing just that. We met Wendel in the parking lot. It was late, but we couldn't help but take advantage of getting to see him! So we got out of the truck to visit. And visit. And visit. And keep visiting. As I said, Wendel is from Washington. It's cold there anyway and he's rather warm blooded so as we talked he stood calmly leaning against his van talking and laughing and enjoying the "warm" weather. He stood there goosebumpless while Levi pulled me in close and jumped up and down...and up...and down....over and over and over. He literally held onto me from the minute we got out of the truck, until the minute we told Wendel good bye. Oh yeah, I'm sure he was cold too, but I got the feeling partway through that mostly he was holding onto me, for me. I hadn't asked him to, he just did it. He knows I'm little. He knows I'm a wuss. He knows I'm a girl. He knew that because of all that, wrapping around me for the [entire duration] of standing out in that bitter cold would be the PERFECT BOYFRIEND thing to do. Even when the four protein-powder-pumped boys walked by limping their way to their pretty red race cars [there were three, between the four of em]. He didn't let go to look "cool". He didn't seem to have anything to prove other than that he was the one who forever more get's to warm the little girl in his arms. He made that seem like the cool thing. I swear the boi takes better care of me than those four guys took care of their cars. And trust me?
That is most definitely, saying something.
Now I've never owned a pretty red race car, so really I'm going off of assumptions mostly, but I can tell you that walking down the street with someone who makes you shine like the prettiest thing around, and shows you off like you're the one everyone else should want, makes a life feel pretty freakin' worth it.
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