It’s probably an easy assumption to make that since I moved to Florida, I hate snow. I don’t. I actually really love playing in the snow. For about fifteen minutes at a time. After that, I’m about tapped out. And by tapped out, I mean I don’t want to be in it, I don’t want to be cold, and I don’t want to drive in it.
If teleporting would just hurry up and get invented already, I’d be set. ; )
Growing up, we had really cold and really snowy winters in Montana. That typical, traditional White Christmas weather. And as a kid, it was freakin’ awesome. Because as a kid, you don’t have to worry about the responsibilities of cold weather. You don’t have to worry about dressing everyone in the family warmly, or paying for the heat, or making sure the car is going to run in the morning when its twenty below. All you care about is making snow angels and praying for a snow day so you don’t have to go to school. Believe me, I had no qualms about that! I remember times when the snow was drifted over our car garage doors, and once how my brother helped me make a tunnel through a huge snow drift in our back yard.
Today, even though I’m happy in my sunny Florida, it is still a little strange to my system having a seventy degree Christmas. This will be my fourth Christmas here, and I’ve decided that I will never quite adjust to a Christmas that doesn’t look like my first 21. And I also wonder how Monkey’s view of Christmas will be- since his first views of Christmas won’t be with snow.
What do you think? Do you need a White Christmas? Or do you prefer yours next to a palm tree?
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