Show Me the Snow

Call me a creature of habit but when the calendar says it is winter, and since I live in a place where the price of real estate is proportionate to the seasonal beauty at hand, I want snow… and lots of it.  I am not the only one who is dreaming of a precipitation paradise, there are lots of surly folks out there who are paying good money in hopes of frolicking in the white stuff.  And so far, no snow show.

Sunny days, clear blue skies and relatively agreeable temperatures have caused me to be in a funk.  I don’t have my usual viable excuses to snuggle up near the fire, read trashy novels and sip mug after mug of hot chocolate.  My regular repertoire of figure flattering and frigid fighting turtlenecks look out of place and the need for comfort foods is replaced by a more healthful variety of treats.

Needless to say I am miserable with all this nice weather.  I don’t have anything to complain about.  If I wanted such agreeable conditions in the winter I would have chosen to live in a tropical paradise, planting myself on a chaise and indulging in foo-foo drinks with umbrellas.

With no snow and ice on the roads, justification to indulge in home and hearth has vanished and my appearance around town is required.  Hiding the holiday poundage under fashionable layers of bountiful, billowy and black clothing has given way to the cheerful springtime colors that show my every flaw.  Taking in the delicious waffling odors of a crock-pot meal has been replaced by repasts of lesser calories with the notion of summer and the pre-preparation of preparing to bare body parts.

Without a doubt, and probably the foremost reason that this lack of wintry weather is causing me dis”tress” (get it? tresses are hair) is that there is no real reason to wear a hat.  Not being able to stuff my flowing locks under a fedora is an open invitation to acknowledge the fact that my natural blondness may need tending… that is a hard pill to swallow and truth hurts.

Don’t get me wrong, come March 20, at 7:07pm EST winter will be officially over and the snow can give way to song birds, daffodils and brighter mornings.  At that time I will be ready to shed my self-preserving and deserving doldrums and spring forward.  There had better not be any funny stuff with someone switching the seasons by sending a blizzard and the wrath of cold back with vengeance on March 21.  My sense of humor only goes so far.

In the mean time I will join the other lost souls who are wandering about looking for winter in the hopes that we find it before we lose interest.  And, I will pay homage to my hair stylist and learn to appreciate him and his abilities to create my blond aura more all year round… my hat is off to you!

Cynthia A. McClelland, curious observer of the obvious with interpretations of the oddities of daily life.  Mother, wife and lover of the furry, resides in the north Lake Tahoe area.

Cynthia A. McClelland © 2003-