The fake snow Ollie managed to rig up in Creme de la Mode-ville is really taking my spirits to a new level. Although I have spent many a holiday weekend on the slopes, I really only had the pleasure of living in the snow one winter of my life. I spent my Junior year in Hanover, New Hampshire. Coming from Southern California, where nary a tree drops a leaf, this was like growing up in a house that only served gruel then spending a year studying at le Cordon Bleu. The sights and smells of the seasons were fulfilling senses I didn’t even know I had. Now I’m sure anyone toughing it out up in the Northeast right now will tell me that I have selective memory – that a New Hampshire winter is 10% Frosty the Snowman, 90% Grinch. I’m willing to concede that point (recalling some frostbitten fingers, and a 20 lb. weight gain that winter), but I still remember that on those Snowman days, the world couldn’t get much more beautiful. Those below zero days inspired a sort of happy madness.
(I took the Occum Pond plunge much like this lunatic. Just FYI, body paint does not prevent against temperature shock.)
So here I find myself, in my 70-degree subtropical “winter” and I’m craving hot toddy’s, nubby knitted hats and an excuse to roll around in the snow. (I’ll see your snowman and raise you a TOP HEAVY FELINE..hmmmmmm???)
I suppose this year, I will have to settle for Christmas surfing, turkey picnics on the lawn, and saki bombs at my local beach bar. Ho hum. For those of you lucky to see the snow, enjoy your 10%! I’d be happy to get that much!