November 12, 2010 § Leave a comment
There was a time when I used to love summer… And then winter ended and all those mountains of snow in the mall parking lost melted to puddles. And those mall parking lots then became so crowded by people seeking refuge from the heat and sticky humidity that the lack of parking spaces rivals the closing days before Christmas when all the husbands rush to Macy’s asking for any cashmere sweater or fruity smelling perfume left — doesn’t matter, they just want the credit for getting a gift; what is Dolce and Gabbana anyway?
It’s nothing like a hot and humid East coast summer to make a summer lovin’ girl think, you know, snowmaggedon wasn’t all that bad, was it? I’m easily pleased and typically don’t want for much, but it’s always with the weather that I get a serious case of the-grass-is-way-greener-on-the-other-side.
I think it’s safe to say that when it comes to the weather, I’m happy on barely a handful of days. Since I’m not that picky or fastidious about anything else in life*, I guess I had to be picky about something — you know, to balance my part of the universe out a little bit — so I guess it’s the weather. But, I’ll admit, it’s kind of my fault. I always feel too cold. In high school, a friend of mine injured his fingers when he jammed them between two desks and was too lazy to go to the nurse’s office for an ice pack so I alternated my hands as his ice pack for the rest of the class period. Now, I use my super power for evil and stick my freezing cold toes under my boyfriend’s warm legs so he’ll yelp, ” Why are your feet SO COLD?!” and then go searching for my “happy socks” (wool socks) while I roll myself up into a tight spring roll of fuzzy blanket on the couch. I also don’t exactly dress for the season if I’m not in the mood. I spend a good amount of time in a battle of stubborn foolishness with the weather, in which I am always the loser, because I really want to wear this skirt and you, weather, should be 15 degrees warmer so I can wear it because it makes me feel like I’m one of Degas’s ballerinas; don’t you see all the lovely tulle?
I feel like this is my equivalent of a puppy barking at the wall for no reason.
But! But, I think I’m doing slightly better this autumn. After last year’s miserable attempt at ignoring the changing of seasons, I’m better prepared this time around. I dyed my hair to the shade of brown my hair turns when I stand under the summer sun for a nice reminder during autumn and winter, and because I just really like that shade of brown. And, I’m embracing autumn because I discovered the existence and wonderfulness of tights — both plain black and intricately detailed– and scarves– brightly colored and all shades of the rainbow, please. Oh, and earmuffs, which I do know is a little early… I know the combination of a wool coat, earmuffs, scarf, and tights–I couldn’t find my mittens– is probably overkill of 50F weather, but it is progress nonetheless. Why? Because I haven’t tried to boycott the changing of seasons by gathering all the blankets and building a fort to lie under and not come out until spring**.
I’ve also prepared for the the colder seasons this time around with a whimsical purchase and a practical purchase. Try to guess which one is the whimsical:
See? This is progress.
*At breakfast, Wayne– in his enthusiasm because, boy oh boy, does this guy love his hot sauce– rashly opened his packet of Texas Pete hot sauce and it sprayed everywhere, with half actually landing on his huevos ranchero and the other half on my white long-sleeved tee. While he started talking about Tide pens and our Costco-size box of Oxi-clean, I was completely missing the point and thinking about the possibility of getting another packet and just making a design of it. It was a really brilliant red-orange.
** Simon to me: I’m surprised you’re not hibernating yet. Sometimes I think you’re part bear.