Frosty Doesn’t Live Here

This winter blows. Like, literally.

So far it’s blown 85-mph winds. A bunch of annoying mist. Even dust, as though we live in a ghost town complete with tumbleweeds, and Mike Brady is leading us through and accidently locking us in jail. And I feel like I’m in jail, shackled to this warm weather like a prisoner who just wants a little time in the chilly outdoors. But for some reason this year, that’s just too much to ask. Except that the rest of the country keeps getting hit with record snowfalls. With freakin’ blizzards. But not me, because I’m supposedly one of the “fortunate,” as Dan my Weather Man keeps reminding me.

Dan used to be such a nice guy. Now, I can barely look at him on the screen.

But as far as blowing goes, the worst…the absolute WORST…is that lately it’s been blowing pollen (or something that totally resembles it) straight up my nose. And it’s February, not even the middle of the month. And for the love of everything right, I should not be sneezing in February!

But I am. And I’m scratching my eyes. And coughing. And sucking down Benedryl like lemonade. Because so far, this winter has blown everything my way but snow. In fact, it’s barely even blown cold air. And I’ve had just about enough of it.

What’s a girl gotta do to get a little severe weather around here?

It reminds me of the time I was seventeen, still waiting for my first car, and really wanting a Ford Escort. To drive home my point, I cut out pictures and placed them strategically around my house. As in, strategically on top of my dad’s wallet. Because to me back then, nothing said cool like a navy blue, two-door hatch-back. It screamed “Look out world, I’m heading your way.” I wasn’t yet old enough—or yet schooled enough in car-coolness—to know that it actually screamed, “Loser who couldn’t get a date on Friday night.” But whatever. I wanted this car.

So it was with great disappointment (and private horror) that I watched my dad pull up to my high school in a Chevy Citation that he’d gotten for just the best price! (his words, not mine). This lovely car was two-toned brown—tan on top and the color of mud on bottom. With no CD player or radio. With a gear shift that sometimes stuck. And a hum that grew louder and louder and louder the longer I drove. After five miles or so, I’d literally be screaming at my sister, and not because we were fighting.

And I drove this car for two years because my dad who loved me bought it and I needed to be grateful (again, his words). And I learned to live with it. I even learned to accept it. Even, eventually…to like it.

But then this stupid girl at my school showed up one day in a new Ford Escort. And it was blue. And I did not like her or her super-awesome car. And she drove it past me every morning, slowing down on purpose so that I could get a good look at her from my vantage point beside that Chevy dork-mobile that couldn’t even decide on what color it wanted to be. Swear on my life, she even flipped her hair and waved. This girl was so mean.

Sure, I had the better parking space right beside the girl’s gym door, but did this even matter? No. No, it did not.

Anyway, do you see the mind-blowing similarities in these two situations?

The whole country has been buried underneath piles of snow this season…except for my tiny area. The whole country is currently building snowmen…except for me and my neighbors. The whole country is tossing their hair and waving at me, slowing down to make sure I get a good look at their winter snow awesomeness…and I’m just standing here looking at my sled, feeling so useless that I can’t do anything to make it feel better. It wants to be used. It wants to be like all the other sleds across America that were created to fulfill a purpose. But it can’t. Because this winter is sucky.

But here’s the good news: According to Weather Dan and Meteorologist Drew (the weather guy I’ve been seeing on the side who lives two channels over), snow might be coming soon. As in, this weekend soon. As in, maybe I can lay off the Benedryl, soon. And I’m counting on it.

Because if not, I might just have to load everyone up in my white mini-van—which is sooo much cooler than a stupid blue Escort—and drive until I find some.

And I’ll flip my hair and wave at anyone who tries to stop me.

Here’s to hoping for a snow day–


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