Now, that’s a big, fat bunghole of an oxymoron and I’m just a moron. But, anyhoo – I’ve lived in Florida my whole life. I do not have much to compare the weather to. I do know that it’s blistering, sweltering hot. I know that I’ve got sun poisoning more times than Tori and Dean have split. I’ve woken up with uber fat psycho duck lips, eyes swollen shut, and my skin has been burned more than Miley has stuck out her tongue. I do know that much. I was hard core with the sun and the tanning, and the not flipping over to the other side, and the falling asleep on my float in my friends’ pool while she went in the house in the comfort of her living room to take a nap and left her supposed ‘bestie’ outside to scorch. Luckily, I’m over that. I do actually have a great affinity for Florida. I was born here, and I’m allowed to make fun of it. It’s my home, and it’s where I look forward to returning to after I’ve been away, and where my kids were born, and where my husband, for some unknown god forsaken reason decided to move to umpteen years ago. With anything that you love, though, also comes things that you can certainly could do without. One of the things that I seethe over is the lack of Florida seasons. My favorite seasons are fall and winter, so I’m going to altogether exclude my not so favorites during this contrast and comparison essay.
Although I have only spent one or two weeks of my life in a different climate during these seasons that I live for, it was enough to give me the glorious, luminous, heavenly vision of what winters are supposed to be like. And they’re not supposed to resemble this:
Falls and winters are supposed to be cold, so that we can drink our Starbucks and not sweat. Winters and Falls are supposed to be cold enough for us to light our scented pumpkin or evergreen candles, enjoy our snuggly warm footed PJ’s (that was a test. If you have those, you’re a total doofwad) and not have to crank up the AC. I want to wear my boots, and not have back of the knee sweat that I have to wipe off every 10 minutes. I want to see snow, and have my kids make snow angels, and say things like: “Don’t eat the yellow snow, you dang goobers!” Oh, and a fireplace, WTF is that?
Visiting those magical, wintery places have given me a glimpse of luxury that I have always yearned for. Well, the luxury with regard to the seasons. I have had my slice of heaven, and I’ll have to just let that live in my memory. New York City is the visualization of my perfect white winter and Christmas season. That’s where I’m going to spread my ashes, just going to sprinkle them on the snowflakes and as we fall to the ground, joined together with tiny little Nutcrackers and gingerbread men, and we will sing “Oh Holy Night,” of course, since that’s my favorite Christmas song, and then we will take a week to fall so that we can be there still when the ball drops. Because, it just wouldn’t be me if those things weren’t included in my eulogy, or urn.
Christmas to me, is about COLD weather, putting up my Christmas tree and sitting in my living room at night, long after my kids have gone to bed, and sitting there in silence, just holding a book in my hand, because I can’t take my eyes off of the revelry that is my illuminating Spectacle of St. John living room lights. It’s one of the things that keeps my heart beating. That and my kids, of course. Dur.
I remember when I was younger and my grandmother used to turn on her sprinklers on Christmas Eve, so that her yard would be frozen for us on Christmas Day when we would visit. It was ah-mazing. I would liken it to artificial snow in Colorado or Utah. Nowadays, the weather has spiked, and the temperatures differ from when I was a kid, approximately 67 years ago. It used to get cold enough at my grandmother’s house in Orlando for the sprinkler water to freeze over night. Now, there’s a split second in January where you may or may not get a goosebump, depending on the rotation of the moon, and depending where the antenna in your living room might be facing.
Last winter, me and my hubs took a little getaway to St. Augustine. It was Co-Old. We picked the perfect week to visit the perfect spot. And we never left Florida! We dined outdoors at a winery, we visited rustic shops and quaint still decorated from the holidays restaurants, and it was the Winter Wonderland of my soul. And we had a ba-last. Here’s proof:
Now, THAT was winter. That is what I need. I don’t need mosquitoes in November. I need homemade scarves (my grandmother made this one, and I, currently have 3 unfinished ones sitting in my bag of tricks just begging to be finished), I need frothy beverages, and I need a month without AC.
Oh well. If I can’t have the cold, frosty winters or the cool and chilly falls, I guess I’ll have to live with once again, another year of Florida weather fails. I’ll continue to perform countless searches on Pinterest while pinning the 984th Christmas craft that I “JUST HAVE TO DO THIS YEAR,” because after all, I’m a legit ding dong. But, I will do those crafts, I will drink my Starbucks while wearing my fur boots, I will decorate the shit out of my FLORIDA house, I will enjoy every pumpkin and peppermint flavored cockroach south of the state line, and I will still be loyal. Because, after all, I do love you, Florida. I do.