Packing for a Thanksgiving trip to my old stomping grounds — Nacogdoches. Ah, it’s a good thing walls don’t talk because if they did in some of the places I lived in there, the Nac folks might not let me come back. It seems while I am up there our first real cold front will blow through. So here I am in 80-degree weather trying to imagine just how cold it might feel in order to pack the most comfortable clothes. Layering is, I suppose, in order. I just don’t like feeling too cold and then too hot. I have become such a creature of the indoors it seems. It used to not bother me all that much going into freezing-ass weather. Well, I do admit when I first started fighting fires it could get pretty freaking cold riding on the tailboard of a pumper. I quickly invested in some thermals. Oh well, my bag is not getting packed sitting here reminiscing.