Snow

I'm not a cold weather girl.  Yes, I was born and raised in New York, which is not exactly known for having a tropical January.  But I was made for Florida, no doubt about it.  I like heat.  I like humidity.  I'd much rather be too hot than too cold.  Sure, everyone says you can just add layers to warm up in the heat, but that's never worked for me.  I could look like the Michelin Man wearing ten sweaters to stay warm, but it still doesn't warm my bones.  The cold bites and there aren't enough sweaters in the world to make that better.

But here I am in Connecticut.  I did live in Florida and, for the record, it is still the best place I ever lived.  I would have gone back in a heartbeat if my whole dang family didn't live in New York.  So after hopping around the country and having a baby, I finally decided - like the good Prodigal Daughter - to return home.  Back to the Frozen North, so my daughter could get to know her grandparents, aunt, and extended family.

This is our second winter in Connecticut.  Last year wasn't too bad.  Sure, there were delays and playgroups and other activities were canceled at times, but for the most part it wasn't a daily event.  And this year, again I looked forward to the magic of a snowstorm.  There is something almost romantic about freshly falling snow, especially when you are safe and warm in your own house, with a roaring fire, a giant glass of wine, er, cup of cocoa, and no place to go.  The Boxing Day Blizzard rocked.  We were snug and warm at home with plenty of presents to keep us occupied.  Sure, shoveling was a bit of a pain, but it was a team effort and we had a good time.  We played outside.  Built a snowman a few days later.  It was great.

The storm the next week was less exciting, but still had some magic.  We got ten inches or so, but it was light snow and not heavy like the blizzard snow.  We managed to have some fun.

I have now lost count.  I know we had one storm where we got twenty-two inches and then six - or was it ten? - a few days later.  We have a storm at least once a week.  I woke up this morning to snow and almost cried.  There is no magic.  My daughter points outside and says "Big snow."  Ha.  Big snow.  Big #!@% Snow, that's what it is! 

I am done.  D.O.N.E.  Done with canceled playgroups, canceled activities, canceled everything.  Done with getting out of the house in the morning being a family affair because we can't get down the driveway without everyone having a key role.  I'm done with boots, snowsuits, mud, salt, sand.  I do like kitty litter, as it seems to be what has enabled us to actually get up our freakishly steep and long driveway.  But otherwise, it can all go away, like, now.

I think I have snow PTSD.  Seriously.  I'm not sure I'll ever look at it the same way again.  And we're supposed to get another six to twelve inches tomorrow night.  Pass the wine, and make sure we have enough kitty litter.  Spring can't come fast enough.  And, heck yeah, we're going to retire to Florida some day!