It's Not Just My Nose That's Norwegian

Thank you to everyone for your sympathy and advice regarding the pain in the coccyx (doesn't that sound mildly vulgar?). I haven't decided whether to just gut out the last month of pregnancy or whether to be proactive about fixing it.

I have a confession to make.

Now as a warning, the confession goes against the grain of social convention and I'm pretty sure I'm going to offend some people's moral positions and personal sensibilities. I might lose friends over this.

I love winter.

I'm not just talking about fires and peppermint hot chocolate and Santa Claus and white snowdrifts, although I do love all of those things. I love crusty snow and dirty snow and slushy snow. I love when Grant Wayment announces red burn days when a single fire could cause the trapped pollution in the Salt Lake Valley to ignite, causing obedient Latter-day Saints to feel the Apocalypse is here and start consuming their food storage. (I personally will be feasting on dried red wheat and cans of corn, washing those down with stale water. I don't think that counts as obedient yet.) I love icicles that hang from the house, but I also love ice patches on the ground. In Quebec, I went tracting in negative forty degree weather (that's in Celcius AND Fahrenheit, thank you very much) and I loved the icicles that formed on my eyelashes. I love days when I don't see the sun. I love muggy gray skies.

I used to think this had to do with winter sports. I think it's time to be honest with myself. The idea of skiing makes me groan about gathering up that much equipment. Besides, I heard Tyler say this week (and I quote) "I'm really just too good for the sport." I've been sledding once this winter and I manned the camera instead of sitting on the sled and just the idea of the aforementioned tailbone pain bumping down a hill makes me wince. I've never been cross-country skiing or snow shoeing, and while I'd like to think of myself as a winter hiker, I go only a handful of times a year, with most of those ventures remaining on the plowed portion of Millcreek Canyon.

No, I've decided it has more to do with the sweaters. Maybe it's the Norwegian in me, who really likes practical $600 sweaters. Or maybe it's because I relish the fact that in the winter you can always put on another sweater where in summer there's only so much you can take off. But something has led me to keep all 27 sweaters I own in my closet when I can only fit two or three of them over my belly right now.

Which brings me to my point. Does anyone have any sweaters, sized extra large, that I could borrow right now? And do you think Dale of Norway has a maternity line?