Q- How do you tell a snowman from a snow woman?
My apologies for the juvenile one-liner.. for some reason it’s the first thing that comes to mind when I think about snow. Now just in case you don’t know, I just moved back to Manhattan after escaping from the frozen tundra about 4 years ago. We went back to balmy Miami where people complain about excessive humidity and mosquitoes the size of my husband’s ginormous head. (Seriously, I’ve seen watermelons smaller than his oddly-shaped noggin!) So what was my response when my husband told me we had to move back to New York for his media job? Stunned silence, followed by tears, and eventually….a plan to fake my own death. Unfortunately, my husband’s large head also comes equipped with sonar hearing and he caught wind of my crafty plan.
So as you’ve probably figured out I L O A T H E cold weather…and as lovely and magical as falling snow can be, once its on the ground -and turns to rock hard ice- it becomes a glaring reminder that frigid weather is made for polar bears and penguins.
My young son seemed to be very much like me. He thrived in Florida’s excessive warmth, played every sport created by man, sweat buckets in the hot sun, and loved nothing more than jumping in our pool after a scorching day. I thought moving to New York would be devastating for him. Well folks, I’ve been betrayed. My kid caught sight of those first snowflakes while witnessing his first blizzard last month, and he was hooked. I’m sure the aero-dynamic snowboard his father bought him for Hanukkah didn’t help, but he’s been begging for more snow ever since. After Christmas my son and I built our first snowman. It was pathetic. The snow was so fluffy it JUST WOULDN’T STICK! I caught myself yelling at the snow, wondering why it refused to fulfill its destiny. Finally, I told my son we would have to settle for a much smaller version of the large snowman we envisioned. In the end, our snow-mess turned out pretty cute, my son was happy, and I guess I like snow a little more.