"Hell is freezing over!" was the most often-repeated phrase rolling over quivering lips today. At eight AM I poked my face out the kitchen door to see if the dire predictions had come true; it is unsettling to us on Miami Beach when the first thing you see when you go outside is your breath. Already broadcasting the current temperature at that time to be 45 degrees, the local forecasters were telling us that 45 would be the high for the day and by night 32 would be likely. A cold, persistent rain all day added to the misery and the feeling of impending doom.

Iguanas started to fall out of the trees yesterday; at these low temperatures they go into a suspended state. Most of the friends I saw today were in such a state, but Leopoldo and Henrietta remain hell-bent to take me out on the town tonight. I realize their intentions are good, but practicality has never been a recognized virtue in this town. My opposition to standing on a street corner in this weather waiting for a cab is brushed off; it is almost considered criminal to not want to dress up, go out, and drink on a weekend night (or any other night, for that matter). Life goes on.