Blizzardo

 

Our first winter in Canada was pretty mild. Having moved from Florida, it was a gentle transition to a northern climate. In our blithe and smug naiveté we thought, “We can handle this!” 

 

We have now learned that last year was Toronto’s second least amount of snowfall on record. This year has brought us to the brink of setting a new record, beating the total set in 1938-39. 

 

 

I actually like snow, except when I must shovel it. I don’t even usually mind the cold. But this year has also brought treacherously icy sidewalks. These—and bitter cold winds—I can do without. 

 

Which leads me to thoughts of what I miss and don’t miss about Florida. For example, I loved watching space shuttle launches, day or night, even from 50 miles (80 km) away. Thrilling.

 

 

I do not, and will never ever miss, the expression, “y’all.” It grates on my nerves, sets my teeth on edge and raises my hackles. I have friends who are not from the American South but who have adopted the term. Although these are wonderful people otherwise, I think they are ill-advised, creepy and just plain wrong to do so. Bleah.

 

I liked the Florida skies and the ocean, and I miss my friends. I did not like the ten-month-long summers and the swamp-spewed allergens, and I do not miss the stupid Confederate flag.

 

Inertia

 

Familiar with the old argument about when a guy should call a girl after they’ve had a date? For guys, calling the very next day could signal an interest so strong that the woman might interpret it as <gasp> commitment. For the woman, a man who waits more than two days to call is *obviously* a cad, a horndog and a jerk.

 

What I noticed, back in those awkward dating days, was that the longer I waited to make that follow-up call the harder it got to pick up the phone—even if I was interested in doing so. I remember a women I wanted to see again was so mad at me by the time I talked to her that the whole thing was over, just as I was trying to figure out if it had even existed in the first place.

 

This same inertia problem occurs with my blogging. The more time that elapses between posts, the tougher it is to start up again. Not just out of laziness or preoccupation with other things in my life, but because there seems to be an inherent need for The Return Of The Blog to be worthy, to matter, to address a subject that justifies the space between entries.

 

The solution is to either compose just such a brilliantly insightful piece, or to simply not care. Or, one can write about inertia itself. And so it goes.