Broke Wife, Big City
Snow You Didn’t
By Aprill Brandon 

I don't even want to say it. Because the second I say it, I'll just jinx it. 

So, I'm not going to say it. 

Except I'm going to say it. One, because this would be one heck of a short article if I didn't. And two, it's only honorable to let the rest of you fine residents know who to blame when this all blows up in my face. 

So...here goes... 

I want a white Christmas. 

I know, I KNOW! You don't wish for snow here. That's like wishing for it to rain in Seattle. Or wishing for it to stop raining in Arizona. Or wishing "Gee, you know what would make Louisiana even better? MORE humidity."  

It's simply tempting the fates. It's basically throwing up a middle finger to Father Winter and daring him to punch you in the face with a Nor'easter. 

And don't think I'm not aware of how particularly cruel I'm being with my wish in light of how unseasonably warm its been for the past few weeks. The fact that winter has been delayed, even a little bit, should have all of us sacrificing small pets on an altar in gratitude to the weather gods. 

But I can't help it. For five years, I spent Christmas in a location where even Santa wore board shorts while ringing the Salvation Army bell. And I got to much cooler climes right after the last big snow storm, meaning my concept of winter at this point is all nostalgia from my childhood years in Ohio (and kids are stupid and remember everything as being great). 

Not to mention, when an idiot like me wishes for snow, I'm not thinking of the practical applications of that. Oh no. No, I'm just thinking how nice it would be to curl up in front of our fireplace (which I don't own) on Christmas Eve with a hot toddy (which I don't know how to make) as chestnuts are roasting (in my once again non-existent fireplace) while a gentle snow falls outside with absolutely no wind chill whatsoever. And then starting on December 26, the temperature jumps up to 60 and stays that way until June. 

But that's not what's going to happen. What's going to happen is four, possibly five months of misery and shoveling and losing small children in drifts and wind that makes you want to curl up and die where you stand and traffic delays and having to warm up your car a full 45 minutes before you need to leave and losing some pretty beloved digits to frostbite. 

And yet, I'm still dreaming of white Christmas. 

So, don't worry. There won't be any hard feelings when the angry mob inevitably shows up at my house and pelts me to death with snowballs. 

I know I deserve it. 

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