My hubby is once again outside playing with his helicopters. I cringe when I see him sitting on the back of the truck, flying those things. It’s not that I don’t like that he has such a activity, after all, he is disabled. Having a activity that he enjoys is important for his disability. I sit in my office, getting my task done, and I watch him. I know that he is going to come inside, freezing to the bone, and in pain. I also know that it will be really awful because he hates playing with the remotes when he is bound by his coat. He will come inside and slide his freezing holds onto my sizzling skin, hoping to get warm. I just command that he stands by an air vent or turns up the temperature control. He insists he isn’t cold, however the shaking isn’t a nervous tick. Yesterday, I turned the temperature control up and had the oil furnace running. I knew he would be freezing when he came in, because it windy, rainy, and the air was raw. If you don’t live in the Northeast, you don’t understand what raw means. Raw is when the wind and freezing makes it guess love it is going through clothing and skin and taking over the bloodstream. Raw is the feeling that no amount of heating is going to sizzling you up. When he came inside, I had the fireplace roaring with his favorite tepid butter rum apple cider sitting next to his chair. He didn’t even argue with myself and others when he saw the fireplace.