(Don’t) Let It Snow
Here’s a true sign that I am a southern girl at heart: I hate snow. HATE IT. It’s snowing outside now, huge puffy white flakes that make children giddy, skiers thrilled and me mutter OY. I don’t ski. I don’t skate. I hate cold weather of any variety, but wet cold weather is the worst. Rubber boots? OY. Wet wool coat? OY. Slippery sidewalks? OY. Airline delays when my baby girl is trying to come home for Christmas? Triple OY.
I could be the person who invented SAD — seasonal affect disorder, or something like that. It means that I like light. The longest day of the year is my happiest day. Light outside till 9 PM? Yes — let’s have a cocktail on the deck at dusk (8:30). Beautiful! I feel sure I couldn’t live in the northwest or even San Francisco — not enough light. My mood starts to drift downward after Labor Day and only begins lifting in March, because March leads to April leads to May leads to SUMMER.
Summer means heat, which I love. I’d rather it be 90 degrees than 50 degrees. Although I complain about almost everything, you will never, never, never hear me say that it’s too hot. If it’s 98, I might complain a tad. But not like I complain about snow, which I hate in all circumstances. The only thing worse than snow is ice — and often, snow leads to ice. (What a meteorologist I am!) How do people in Buffalo or Green Bay survive?
Now that my children are grown, never again will I have to pretend to enjoy taking them sledding in Riverside Park, smiling at their joy while inside I am thinking, “Get me the HELL off this hill!” When snow was predicted last night, my adorable 6 foot 2 son said, “Oooh, I want to go sledding!” And I said serenely, “Have fun, sweetie — I’ll be home watching Oprah.”
December 19th, 2008 at 7:30 pm
I’m with you! When everyone else is giddy over the rare possiblity of snow here in the south, I’m thinking about wet clothes & shoes tracking in and out of my house and how in the hell am I going to get down my driveway and to work!
December 20th, 2008 at 9:51 pm
It’s no accident that the longest day of the year, June 21st, is my anniversary. A hot sunny beach trumps a slush filled curbside anytime. HOWEVER, I am compelled to admit that a real white Christmas is a thing of beauty. It’s a great excuse to stay inside by the fire and imbibe. You enjoy that part, right??