You know it is cold when

your 18 and a half year old dog goes out to do his business, but won't step foot on the grass and relieves himself on the concrete patio AND upon impact with the ground, liquid immediately turns to ice.

Now that is cold. For California. For here. (Having spent several winters in the Illinois, I didn't realize I had become a cold pantie-weight until this morning. I looked at the thermometer and it is at 25 degrees F. I remember when that temp felt like a heat wave.)

Guess temperature is truly relative. Bring me another blanket.