Cold Shoulder

I like winter activities in abstract. I’ve enjoyed cutting out paper snowflakes, buying cute mittens, and watching “Frosty the Snowman” every Christmas. I think snow angels look cool, ski lifts look exhilarating, and steaming hot chocolate looks delicious. I understand the appeal of winter stuff--it’s the practical application where my interest wanes. As I’ve admittedly mentioned before, I’m not a big fan of the cold. And by fan, I mean having any love for. And by cold, I mean below 70 degrees. I embrace my weather wimphood with Southern California-born, Golden State-bred, sun-soaked pride, but I can understand, in theory, the attraction of the white stuff. I would much rather stay in the crackling-fire lodge than go down the mountain, but there is something impressive about the folks who swoosh with style. I could never swoosh with anything but the dangerous awkwardness where emergency room visits are born, so I have to envy the ones who can. I have always wanted to be the kind of person who loads up the car with inner tubes and hits the roadside slopes with all my winter-loving friends, but all I can think about when contemplating such a day is that there is no way my toes will stay warm enough to make the tubing worth it. Wimpy, I know. But it’s who I am. In Shirley Neitzel’s The Jacket I Wear In The Snow, one little girl crashes her sled…but thanks to a million layers of clothes, it’s no harm, no foul.

http://www.amazon.com/Jacket-I-Wear-Snow/dp/0688045871

http://www.shirleyneitzel.com/activities.htm