Where Are You, Snow?

I’m very disappointed that we haven’t really had any snow this year. We’ve had a mere flurry or two that lasted less than an hour. It’s been so warm that even if it has flurried, it’s gone as soon as it lands.

I know there are readers of my blog who don’t share my disappointment- yes, mother, I am talking to you- but I can’t help but be a little sad that the world around me has yet to be covered with a soft white carpet and I can have my annual “YAY, it’s snowing” mug of peppermint hot chocolate.

The thing is, it hasn’t really even been that cold yet. We’ve had a few cold days but mostly, it’s been rather mild. Yesterday, for example, it was 63 degrees.

I like 63 degrees in the autumn. I like it in the spring. It’s quite nice even in the summer when it gives you a break from the hot summer days.

It’s just that, well, there are ten days until Christmas and it’s just too…warm!

One of the novelties I always found about California when I lived there is that I’d go Christmas shopping in Santa Monica and it would be 68 degrees, warm and sunny about a week before Christmas. I used to smugly think of my family and friends back in the Midwest who were usually in the middle of a frigid spell and bask in the novelty of the warm weather. Of course, I wouldn’t have been so smug if I hadn’t known that I’d be flying back to the Midwest in a few days and I’d get to experience the cold weather.

I was spoiled, you see. I got to come home for the holidays and enjoy a taste of winter but go back to a place where it rarely gets below 45 degrees.

Yet I missed my snow. I missed the days when it was too cold to do anything but wrap up in a blanket, make a mug of tea and sit on the sofa watching movies, reading a book and enjoying the fact that winter gave me an excuse to be lazy.

I won’t wax poetical on why I love snow. All you have to do is search my blogs for the mention of “snow” and you’ll see that I’ve already waxed poetical on the stuff. I’m not just a fickle fan of snow- liking it to fall at Christmas because it’s tradition and then wanting it to go away. I’m a real fan of snow. I like it when it snows and I like it when it sticks around. The only time I don’t like it if it’s worn out its welcome in April and is stepping on the toes of spring or when it’s really messing with my life and being rude which usually means the roads are terrible but not terrible enough for me to be able to stay home, my icescraper doesn’t work or it’s not really snow- it’s ice which is a total different thing.

No, I’d like to see a little gentle snowfall now. It’s time. I’m a traditionalist. I’d like a white Christmas. Also, it feels rather wrong to go outside and have it be warm and balmy when you’re in Ohio in December, only ten days away from Christmas.

I’ve even tried wearing my snowflake necklace. It is actually working its magic but it seems to be a little broken because the magic is working for my parents, two and a half hours north, not for me. Each time I’ve worn it, they’ve seemed to have an unexpected snowfall. The first time I wore it, they were supposed to have a warm day with a little rain. They ended up having a cold day and got four inches of snow.

I’m annoyed. I like my snowflake necklace a lot but I’d like it to bring ME snow! Perhaps this is wrong but, well, I like my snow, as I’ve mentioned quite a few times already.

Still, I suppose I should just do the right thing and appreciate this warm spell. In two months, I’ll probably be dreaming of warm days where I don’t have to wear five layers of clothes, sleep under a heavy comforter and have two dogs with freezing noses fighting to warm them on any exposed part of my body they can find.

It’s just…hard. I mean, I’m listening to Christmas music in my car when I drive and it just doesn’t feel the same knowing that it’s warm outside.

Still, this time of year, I shouldn’t be selfish. Not everyone loves snow or even likes it and so they’re probably getting an early Christmas wish.

But I’m still going to wear my snowflake necklace anyway.

Happy Friday!

Paranoia in the Rearview Window

It's a cold and wet day outside the window where I sit today. It's the kind of cold that doesn't measure on a thermometer, a damp, chill that sinks into your bones and sits there. Even though it's warmer than it has been, the temperature reading doesn't mean much. It's in the wet rain that mists the air making things wet but falling so finely, it's almost invisible.

I think I've been complaining a lot lately. Whether it's a book that irritated me (yes, I'm talking to you, Story of Edgar Sawtelle), a movie or just the general blahness that hits in the deep winter months, I feel like I've been too negative.

I'm going to try to break out of that pattern. I actually did some writing last night. That was a good feeling. I know, I write on this blog every week day so, technically, I do write almost every day. Yet the type of writing I do in the evenings is different, it's fictional. It's much easier to babble about the world around me than make up something somedays.

It's Wednesday. That means it's closer to Friday and, if everything works out, I will have a three day weekend. Keep your fingers crossed that the title to my car arrives at the DMV this week. I'm starting to feel a little homebound. I drive to work from my home and back. Last weekend, I was daring and went a little further. Yet I keep alert to the possibility that at any moment a police car could pull behind me and see my license plates are technically expired.

So far, I'm doing ok with that. I'm ultra paranoid though. I have this picture in my head of a police car getting behind me and then I panic and suddenly turn off, my tires squealing as I do so. Then I get followed by the police and they pull me over and take my car away. Naturally, I think if I don't do anything ultra-obvious like, say, flee from the police in a dramatic manner, I might be ok. I can actually be quite rational in these situations.

However, if all goes as planned, I won't have to worry as of Friday afternoon. I will actually be able to drive proudly though I will be extremely sad to give up my California license plate. It's my mark of pride at the moment, my excuse for driving like a snail on snow, if snails drove, of course. It's my sign that yes, I'm not from around here, I'm a newcomer, be nice to me. Of course, at the moment, it's an enormous flashing beacon to police. It doesn't help that the expiration date of my plates isn't tiny like on the Ohio plates that I see every day. Instead, the year and month are on two rather large stickers, visible with 20/20 vision from the car behind me. I used to stare at those stickers a lot when I lived in L.A. and got stuck on the 10 freeway or the 101 as was the case when I moved there.

My first few years in L.A. were spent commuting from "The Valley" as it's known. I used to take the 101 and drive by the Hollywood sign daily, the Capital records building, the sights that look so glamourous in photos but border on seedy in real life. Then when I moved, I took the 1o freeway from a different valley. This commute was more boring but I had to pay more attention because the freeway split three times before I made it to my destination. Only a couple of times did I forget to split, finding my way into parts unknown and quickly turning around in case I got more lost.

Nowadays, my commute is easier. I hop in my car, turn left twice, turn right once and then turn into my parking lot. I'm always shocked that not only is it a quick trip but there's always parking spaces and I don't have to pay for them. I used to have to pay monthly in L.A. for the privilege of parking my car to go to work. These are some of the things I do not miss about Los Angeles.

Though there are some things I miss; I miss the heavy rains of February, the streets flooding with swell of the rain. I miss my friends, the quick trips to a movie where we'd make a dinner out of a hot dog and popcorn. I miss the fact that on any day, every movie currently in release is playing in the city somewhere. I miss the ocean and the trips to the English tea room I'd take with a friend after going to the Santa Monica pier.

Yet I'm not unhappy to be here. Now I have the chance of rain every day, not just during the 'rainy season'. I have my snow and the newness of the world it creates. I have my family, just a short trip away (unless the plates on my car are expired like...now) and I have a new life, one that's just begun. The discoveries I make every day are fun, from seeing a deer in the field behind my balcony to exploring a six-acre grocery store that keeps me in British goods without having to fly to the U.K.

I'm happy where I am but I'm happy where I've been. I'm curious where the road ahead lies.

Just as long as when I look in my rearview mirror, there aren't any police.

Happy Wednesday.