Why I Hate Winter, Part One

Apply the fire with kindling now
I'll pull the blankets up to my chin
I"ll lock the vagrant winter out and
I'll fold my wandering in
I'd like to call back summertime
Have her stay for just another
month or so

[This is part one, not because I have another clever tidbit waiting in the wings, but because I know that I will trip and fall into a pool of slush or freeze my tongue to something in an innocent attempt to actually appreciate winter, and then tell you all about it. Updates as events warrant.]

It's getting cold. I hate that. Fall is great, don't get me wrong, crunchy leaves, new pencils, and you get to say "crisp" and "brisk" a lot. But it's getting cold! So, in a spontaneous urge for warm clothes, the other day I went shopping with my mom. I DESPISE shopping alone, and my mom is a good shopping buddy (sometimes we link elbows) because she gets tired of it as quickly as I do. So off we go to the gross discount store, which is the only place I can rationalize spending money on clothes that probably won't fit. Anyway, after selecting a nubbly sweater which I thought was quite adventurous as well as a cream colored silk top I assumed would be perfect for layering, I asked her opinion. She ever-so-gently informed me that my sense of style is boring, all my clothes look the same, and she didn't like either piece. I reflected that this is the polar (get it? cold!) opposite of a normal mother-daughter-shopping relationship. My identity in crisis, I then silently agreed with her. I am crying on the inside, mom. And you know what I want for Christmas.