I'm okay with snow for Christmas. In fact, I would prefer it. I will never forget the time in Vegas when I heard "It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas" on the radio while watching a piece of LITERAL TUMBLEWEED bounce across the road in front of my car. There's something seriously wrong with that. There should be snow on Christmas. It's the perfect picture of families cozied up by the fire while the snow softly falls under the street lights...you get the idea. You've all seen the movies.
This year, December was confused. Poor December...it was having an identity crisis where it was trying so hard to be March or April. Strings of fifty degree days stretched over the entire month, making it difficult to Christmas shop or sing carols because it felt like I should be eating Easter candy.
Dear December,
YOU'RE DECEMBER. WE LIKE YOU THE WAY YOU ARE. PLEASE SNOW.
Love,
Michigan
Unfortunately, December's identity crisis did not end before Christmas. We had a green, fairly warm Christmas (but my sister was home so I didn't care TOO much - please see my previous post). We ate Christmas dinner and then went outside to open presents by a bonfire (so then it felt like September...so many months in one...).
Then a few days after Christmas, just in time for the Christmas hubbub to calm down to the point where I could actually spend some time outside... winter finally woke up, looked at his alarm clock, and realized, "CRAP! I'm LATE!" So he didn't even properly get ready for the season and just dumped a ton of ice on us, like, "Sorry guys...I didn't have time to whip up some nice fluffy snow...you know how it is when you only have five minutes to get ready..." So we had this crazy ice storm where everything was coated in ice. My friends across the country even heard about it: "Southern Michigan Covered in Ice." Airports couldn't send out planes. Tons of cars were crashing. I stayed inside my house and listened to the hail plink against my roof and windows. The dogs went outside, took one look at the sky, and ran back inside. It wasn't great.
When the storm finally ended, I decided to go for a run the next day. I'd been cooped up in my house with nothing to do and, well, I don't do well with that. I put on my new running clothes, stepped outside, and realized that it was still ice raining. I shivered in the cold. Also, the roads and sidewalks were total slush piles spread out around ice patches. There was no place to run except through slush and ice. I was about to head back inside when I saw a man across the street walking his dog while wearing shorts. SHORTS, I tell you. I simultaneously thought two things:
1. Michigan is a very weird state.
2. I'm not about to get beat by THAT guy.
So, in the end, I went on what was probably the slowest run ever. I did run my full two mile loop, but it was like running in sand - I couldn't go fast at all. Running in sand is fun because you're at the beach and the sun is shining and you're listening to the waves and all is generally right with the world. Running through slush up to your shins is cold and miserable and makes your toes go numb while more ice falls from the sky onto your head. Not great. I probably shouldn't have gone, but then I would have been beat by Mr. "I don't care that it's 30 degrees and raining ice. I'm wearing shorts!" I don't do well with getting beat by...well...anyone. Maybe I should work on this in 2016.
It's December 30, almost time for the new year, and NOW - for the first time all season - snow is softly falling outside my window.
Welcome, winter. I hope your late arrival doesn't mean you're going to be staying late as well. White Christmas, green Easter - not the other way around, okay? Okay. So be gone by Easter, and I'll forgive you for missing Christmas. Do we have a deal?
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