Winter brings out my bicoastal personality. When I lived in Seattle, the anemic winters out there made me mopey, and I would reminisce about being buried by a foot of pristine snow and cocooning inside and baking cookies all afternoon. Nature obliged last night by blanketing the Eastern Seaboard.
By January, and certainly by February, I am so sick of the bitter cold here and have eaten too many cookies that I am ready to ditch our New York City metropolitan-area lifestyle and set up shop in Los Angeles, where Mike’s company is based. LA is where people jog in their shorts in March and everyone is thin because the sunshine motivates them to stay active and avoid cookies. In LA, you can’t hide underneath five layers of baggy wool. That is the kind of accountability I need. Even Frosty here is checking out his pear-shaped figure thinking he needs to revise his New Year’s resolutions.
What I want is the Winter Wonderland for Thanksgiving and Christmas, and then after New Year’s, I want the cold to melt and the thermometer to hit 70 degrees. That might be an abrupt transition for some, but I think Northeasterners would grow to like the change.
