Is it a sign of aging if I have to zip back through a year’s work of blogs to see if I’ve written one like this yet? Or is it more of a sign of trust that you wouldn’t tell me if I had. Or maybe it’s that I’m never sure if anyone is really reading this – and in that case, I can talk to myself about whatever I want no matter how many times I want.
Winter. Will you never end?
It’s not that I don’t believe in saving the environment, Mr. Gore…it’s just that that whole Global Warming thing seems to be taking some time off.
Not even one month into the official winter season and we are just wrapping up storm numero seis (that would be six for those of you less close to our Spanish speaking neighbors).
Many of you reading this reside in the northern part of the country and are wondering what the heck I’m talking about. Many of you have had snow on your ground since late August.
That’s not how we roll here.
So, yes, it does get right under my cold-weather-cracked-skin when I speak to the Nanooks, trying to express my tale of snow lock down woes and hear responses such as:
“Wait. You’re home because there’s a dusting?” or
“How many days off? For two inches?!” or
“You share a shovel with five of your neighbors?”
Or, one of my favorites – when trying to explain to my Boston colleagues why I would be late for training due to the airport being shut down…
“Four inches? or Forty Inches?”
“I don’t understand. How is your airport closed for four inches?”
Let me give you some examples of why we tend to hunker down in inclement weather. Or weather. We really don’t call it inclement. We say, “Looks like some weather’s coming.”
So yeah – I hear you. Where you live, you see a snow storm as nothing more than a reason to preheat your car before heading out. I get it – you live in the land of blizzards and blusters. Good on you. You and your Eskimo driving skills rock my world.
But there’s no reason to make me feel badly for living in a state where snow plows are at a minimum (ps – we don’t ‘plow’ our streets here – we scrape them. Just like we cut off lights. We cut off our lights and we scrape our roads. Not only do we not drive in the winter, we have our own secret language).
And you know what else?
At the end of February, I’ll be worrying about how I look in shorts. I win.