Snow is falling, not too gently. We’re expected to get anywhere from 5-10 inches by tomorrow morning. Of course, it isn’t nearly as much as some other parts of the country and I am thanking God profusely for not living there.
Can you tell I don’t like snow?
I’ve never been a winter girl. I’m a summer girl even though I never tan, but burn and look much better all covered up than in anything remotely resembling a bikini or shorts. God blessed me with wonderful child bearing hips and thighs and now that I bear the battle scars of childbirth (proudly) I am quite positive my bikini wearing days are LONG gone.
But oh summer. I would rather sweat than shiver. I’d rather be burned than wearing three layers of clothes and a blanket. I prefer sitting in air conditioning than in a heated home.
My birthday is July 22. Maybe that has something to do with it. It’s possible, I suppose. It’s also possible that I’m really a lizard in human disguise and need warmth to survive.
Tomorrow though, maybe I’ll bundle up my peanut and play in the snow. That could be good fun. But you know how it works with kids, don’t you? You spend 20 minutes bundling them up to spend 2 minutes outside. Then it’s complaining about being cold or someone gets a snowball to the face and then you spend an hour taking clothes off, putting them in the dryer, making hot chocolate and reading until you get warm again.
Best snow memory: using the brussels sprouts that had frozen in the garden as bombs/bullets to hit each other with. I think I was 11 or 12.
So if you like snow, fine, enjoy it. I’ll be the one in the house with her bathing suit on, the heat turned up to 90, with a margarita in my hand and the Beach Boys on. Ohhhh yeah.