You look and think "pretty." I look and think "cold."
Dear Mother Nature,
It seems as if we have this conversation every year, yet inexplicably I must contact you anyways. While you did give us a surprising grace period that left us snowless and without bitter cold into November, you've since returned with a vengeance. If it weren't for the timely acquisition of toasty gloves to warm my hands through these harsh times, I don't even know if I'd be able to survive the winter. On the same shopping trip in which I acquired these gloves, I nearly picked up a hat to warm my head that would have made me look like a 1920's newsboy.
Such is the desperate place you put me in.
Gone are the fleeting thoughts of a balmy winter, in which I could simply grit my teeth and insist I wasn't cold (I would be) and ignore the fact winter was upon us (it would have been). They've since been replaced with thoughts of vacationing in such summery meccas as Edmonton (Canada, for gods sake!) and New York City. Alas, they are not exactly Miami themselves, but compared to the Great White North they're a veritable paradise.
Perhaps that's why our favorite holidays are situated as they are. What else could make winter salvageable besides those days that best allow us convivial experiences? Sure, you may suggest that these holidays are positioned as such because of some really old guy's birthday and to give thanks for the good things in your life, but I don't buy into your bait and switch. You're trying to make us forget it's cold, aren't you?
Sneaky, but not sneaky enough.
It is what it is. We've been through this before and I'm sure we'll go through it again next year. If you could do me one favor though, let's see if we can make it abnormally warm (I'm thinking 72 degrees) on January 17th. That would be one heck of a birthday present. Let's just ignore the fact that it would be absolute pandemonium for driving and run with it.
Sincerely,
David Harper
