Jan. 12: "Feels like 7''

One of the first things I do each morning is turn on my computer and see what the weather is going to be.

Thursday morning the little "Weather Outlook'' on my home page read: “Current Temp. 21 degrees; Feels like 7 degrees.’’ I suppose the fact that there was a 16 mph wind factored into the equation.

An hour or so later, as I was walking from my truck to the cafeteria for breakfast, I began to think about that "Weather Outlook.'' What I was wondering mainly was: How do they know what it “feels like?’’

I imagined the guy in charge of putting these Weather Outlooks together sitting in a little office somewhere in Starkville. I suspect he asks his assistant, most likely an intern, to go outside and look at the thermometer.

“Hey, Bob, what’s it say?’’ the guy in charge yells though the tightly closed door.

“Uh, Al, it looks like it’s 21 degrees.’’

“OK, then. 21. Got it. What’s it feel like?’’

“Seven, maybe?’’

“Allrighty then... 21, feels like 7. Now you can go get the doughnuts.’’

Now, I’m not at all sure that this is how they compile this information. It’s pure speculation. Maybe instead, Al just calls random cell phone numbers and asks whoever answers if he or she has been outside in the last few minutes. If the person says, yes, he asks what it “feels like.’’

If that is how they arrive at this information, all I know is that if he had called me as I walked that quarter-mile from my truck to the cafeteria, I do not believe I would have said, “Well, Al, it feels like 7.’’

I think my response would have been along these lines.

Me: “What does it feel like? Really? What does it feel like? Well, Al, it feels like I am sucking sharp stalagmites into my lungs with every breath I take. It feels like all of my internal organs have balled themselves into tight little angry fists. It feels like my nose is running like a slush-puppy fountain but I do not dare wipe it for fear that even the slight brush will cause my entire face to shatter and fall to the ground into a million little pieces. It feels like my hair is frozen, Al. I don’t know what my legs, feet or toes feel like, Al. They seem to have cut off all communication with the rest of my body. I secretly suspect they have formed some sort of suicide pact and have somehow located a gun and put themselves out of their misery. That’s what it feels like, Al. OK?’’

Al: “Allrighty, then. We’ll go with feels like 7.’’

Suffice to say, it was cold Thursday. I don’t remember being this cold, certainly not since 1996 when I left for the Bay Area and, later, Arizona. It was so cold people were going into walk-in freezers in the cafeteria just to warm up.

I made it to cafeteria, noticed that they were serving hot, steaming grits and wondered what would happen if I just leaned over and buried my face in the big serving bowl.

Instead, I just asked for an extra helping and began to un-layer as the feeling began to slowly creep back into my hands and fingers and feet and toes.

A couple of other notable events from Thursday:

I had my first test. It was in Geography and it was a map quiz on North America. We were told we needed to be able to locate on a map all of the U.S. states and Canadian provinces, major bodies of water, mountain ranges, prominent cities and bays, capes, rivers, etc.

I studied very hard for the test, since I felt it was important to get off to a good start. (Interesting Geography Note: Did you know there was a Canadian province by the name of Nunavut? Me, neither. It’s way up north, even if you’re in Canada. Nunavut hasn’t been in the news much, maybe because about the only thing that happens there is people spontaneously turning into popsicles and that’s happened frequently enough that readers are bored and don’t want to read about it anymore.)

Anyway, I knew all the states, provinces, rivers, oceans, mountains, mud puddles, funny-looking trees that sort of look like presidents when look at that knothole right there, forks in the road, roadside attractions that have closed but the sign on the freeway is still up for some reason, etc., etc.

The test was only 20 questions. I had about 500 answers. The good thing is I am absolutely certain I got all 20 right. So I’m off to a good start.

The other good thing that happened was lunch.

For the first time since I’ve been on campus, I actually had lunch with somebody. She microwaved soup, I brought crackers. We ate in her office (She is an MSU employee).

The lunch was arranged through one of my old high school classmates. Her cousin works at MSU. I should get in touch with her, my old high school friend said.

So I did. I friended her of Face Book and we exchanged some comments, so it wasn’t like I was having lunch with a total stranger.

Now, I’m pretty sure this was not a “date.’’ I don’t think anybody involved viewed it in that context. But I will say that Kathy (that’s her name) is very attractive in just about every way you can measure it.

I was relieved to know that Kathy had been reading this blog, so she knew my “condition’’ before I ever arrived at her office. So the burden of explaining my train-wreck-of-a-life was lifted and we were able to talk about something more pleasant – tennis (she plays, I don’t), kids (she has three, I have two), how cold it was (feels like 7, we agreed).

So it was my best meal since I arrived, mainly because of the company. (Canned soup is canned soup, after all.)

It’s going to be cold again tomorrow, I am told.

I don’t know how cold.

Or what it’s going to feel like.

That's Al's business, I figure.

But I shivered through the morning and found some warmth at lunch.

It was a good day.