Hello, snow!


If I could do this to real snowflakes, I would.  (If you can’t tell what’s going on in this picture, here’s a hint: NOM NOM NOM.)  To say that I like snow is a gross understatement, and should send my already adequately-endowed nose into the land of fairytale French prince, a la Pinocchio.  I don’t just like snow, I LIKE-like snow. I luuuuuuuuv snow. I want to MARRY it. (Unfortunately this is still not legal, even in Mexico, and not because those in Central America don’t know what it is.)

I love snow with the fire of a thousand suns slavish adoration generally reserved for new toys or one’s Twuuu Wuuuuv in junior high.  I ❤  it a little more than people who ski, and a little less than people working in the Christmas card industry.  Despite the fact that I went to college in Michigan, I really haven’t lived anywhere that got much snow. The middle of Indiana is far more likely to be dismally gray and uneventful than anything,  even meteorogically.  (Which is totally a word. Shut up, spellcheck. That you don’t like, but “Twuuu Wuuuv” is fine? WTF?)  Here in Ohio, it really isn’t that different from Indiana or Michigan (sorry to disappoint, sports fans, but they might as well be the same state, along with Illinois).  Which is to say, when it does snow, it’s either a dusting that melts away once the sun (or more likely, rain) hits it, or a whole mess of snow that shuts down the city for a few days. And in most cases, four+ inches is enough.

Maybe I associate snow with not having to go to school/work. Maybe I subconsciously want to live in a place where there is a lot of snow regularly, and heat my farmhouse with fragrant wood, and look out over the frozen lake with a hot mug of something as Northern Lights flicker over the crisp snow.  Somehow I manage to gloss over the realities of such a life, like months of shoveling paths, chopping and drying wood, frigid mornings until the fire is tended, and of course, being stuck in the house (and possibly without electricity) for days and days.  But naturally, that isn’t what I dream about when it snows.

Somehow when I dream, I picture myself alone in a cabin (besides the cats), not a wife and mother. Money doesn’t enter into the picture, nor does diet, fashion, health, or love. Just me, myself and I, a handful of lazy cats, some yarn, a book, a fire, a blanket, a hot cuppa, and a gentle snowfall blanketing the evergreens outside my chic picture window.  Contentment. Calm. Quiet.

Gone are the days when I thought the height of hopes and dreams lay in a big city with a big salary, house, wardrobe and circle of friends.  Is this what growing up is like? Or is this just learning what I really want?


About crankyfacedknitter

We are a motley collection of cats, cranks, nerds, geeks, hobbyists, humorists, writers, caffeine addicts and one knitter. We have many offspring, but admittedly, most of them are imaginary.
This entry was posted in Navel gazing and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Hello, snow!

  1. Sonvar says:

    I guess more of a learning what you really want. Money isn’t everything you need contentment. And I would guess those days of snow left you feeling content that you had no control on the outside world so you might as well relax. At least that’s my take on it.

    For me I’m not entirely sure what would be contentment. This past weekend for the most part made me feel pretty content absent only one thing. That being in love with someone and it being reciprocated which is not something I’ve had.

    • Contentment seems to hinge on money right now, because I want to not be in debt anymore. Or at least, to not be in debt with no way out. Money seems like the answer just because I’m tired of feeling like a deadbeat, or deprived, or something. Saving up for a house would be different; it’d be a good reason to not buy new clothes or a toy. A positive goal, not having to choose what bill to pay that week.

      I harp on money a lot. When I was single and lonely (those two do not always coincide, but when they did), I remember that feeling. And people would tell me “oh don’t worry, it’ll happen to you!” so cheerfully that I kind of wanted to smack them in the teeth. So I won’t say that to you, because really, how the hell do I know? I mean, other than the part where I like you and think you’re a good person, and the part where I wish I knew someone stable and interesting enough to set you up with.

      Maybe you should take up knitting. You’d meet tons of ladies, dude. Tons. And at least half would be in your age bracket, and would also like your cats, and out of that pool you could probably find one sane enough to ask out.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s