It was painful to turn the calendar to October. November will hurt even more.
I suspect I'm one of those people that falls into the deepest of funks when the winter months arrive. I hate the snow. I hate the cold and more than that I loathe the feeling of being a prisoner in my home.
Oh, sure my son's hockey games and the 'parent meetings' before the puck drops help a little - but one can't really do that every...single....day. (Or shouldn't at least - since it's code for 'have a beer before the game').
I knew I should've learned to ski. I should have embraced snowmobiling at high speeds in below zero temperatures, or at the very least I wish I would have learned to enjoy the feeling of frozen snot on my scarf.
But no sir, not me. None of that happened. My distaste for all of it only settled deeper in my heart at each arrival while I fantasized of becoming a snowbird in my senior years.
But then, my snowbird years are probably still down the road a good chunk and October is already almost half way gone.
But on a bright note I did realized today that I do, however, enjoy winter as a spectator.
I like to watch other people ski. (Ideally with a novel in my lap and a cup of something hot in my hand). I also often jump up to look out of the window and watch as a madcap snowmobiler flies past the driveway at an unsafe speed.
And the pictures we take in the winter - those are admittedly breathtaking. Just beautiful.
There's no denying it. Winter. Is. Pretty. It's mere weeks away.
And that feeling of frozen snot...haven't really found an upside to that yet.
