It's the little things ...

As I ambled on the frost-covered sidewalk back and forth between the laundry room and the Box in pajama pants, a wifebeater and sandals, I realized how much I've changed my day-to-day routines since leaving Florida.

It wasn't a year ago that my family took a four-day vacation in Saluda, N.C., and my brother, Mike, his wife, Nikki, and I were blown away by the snow and icicles. We considered ourselves tough for hiking around in 19-degree temperatures, bundled in nearly every article of clothing we owned.

It wasn't two years ago that I was shivering in my car waiting for the Park and Ride bus on the UF campus at 7:30 a.m. It couldn't have been lower than 30 degrees.

Even further back, I used to live in a converted porch which would dip down to 35-40 degrees at night during the winter. Every morning I would wake up and zip from the comfort of my blankets to curl up next to the space heater. At 14, it was better than a cup of coffee.

Now? I love 19 degrees because I know I'll be considering it "warm" in a month.

So yeah, things have changed, but it's the smaller things that make me realize how far north I am.

-- I now carry two sets of car keys so I don't lock myself out when I start the Kia to warm the engine 10 minutes before I drive.

-- There's a full set of clean clothes in the backseat of my car, and it's not because I'm lazy.

-- When I slip on ice (on foot or in the Kia), all I think is "Oh, darn, ice again."

-- I can tell if a girl has a good body when she's wearing three layers of clothing.

-- I've perfected the heel-stomping maneuver that efficiently removes snow from shoes before entering my house.

And it isn't until one of these little things comes into play that I think, "What exactly happened in the past three months, and how did it lead me here?"