The weather is such a safe subject to discuss with friends or strangers.
Lull in the conversation? Talk about the weather.
Meet a farmer? Discuss the rain.
Got nothing to say to a three-year-old? Talk about snow.
Need a blog topic? Go no further!
It's the universal subject people can either complain about or revel in and not worry about being judged as a Lefty or a Righty. (OK, perhaps I'd better keep Global Warming out of the conversation.)
As a warm weather-loving person, I still love my cool weather-loving friends.
My youngest, who is 10, is ready to move to Michigan.
"Why?" I ask.
"There are no tornadoes or earthquakes, and there is a lot of snow," she immediately replies. She has obviously thought this through.
Then I wonder if she was switched at birth because she is obviously not my child.
Once upon a time, long, long ago, I was fine with winter.
Slipping my stockinged feet into orange, Holsum bread bags before shoving them into not-so-water-proof Mickey Mouse boots was a normal part of winter play preparations. That -- along with a double layer of pants (snow pants were not the norm at my house) -- was tolerated because when else could a girl dig a snow tunnel and make a snow fort? I also remember my bright red stocking hat with a pom-pom the size of a baseball. I loved it!
(Contrast this with almost every Florida vacation picture of me as a youngster...in August.
Hair wild from humidity and sweat, skin red with angry sunburn,
my grouchy, grumpy, squinty-eyed face mirroring my every thought under that bright, relentless sun.)
Now, as an adult, not only do I mentally cringe at the change to a colder season, but my body rebels.
Scratchy, sore throat.
Dry eyes and nose.
Watery eyes and nose.
Now I understand why the "older set" like to migrate to places like Florida and Arizona --
states which have been jokingly called God's Waiting Room.
Someday it will be my joy to hang out there.
As long as there is air conditioning.