Sunday, December 20, 2015

Chilling In The Name Of

Me: Do you remember what it was like when snow got inside your clothes and everything was freezing cold and wet?
Son: It was horrible!! My sleeves wear always soaking! And that's why I was always getting naked inside the house in winter!
Me: Actually no Owen that seems to have been for an entirely different reason. Besides you still do that and we live in the desert.
Son: I do that just in case it snows here daddy.

On Wednesday morning of this past week my son was sad. We are not going to have a white Christmas here in Phoenix. I know - it's shocking. You'd think quite honestly someone like Sheriff Arpaio - a man notoriously quick to chase away anyone who even remotely seems Mexican - would be doing everything in his power to be making the entire city of Phoenix as white as he probably wanks that it should be. But then logic was never his strong point. After all here's a man who fits that mould of right wing non-thinkers who want to get the government out of everyone's business because it's power mad and scary and Stalin and "Obama's never shown his real birth certificate" and etcetera. Except for gayness of course. Those sorts of people tend to forego all that ranting about how government is too invasive when it comes to anything gay. Then it's state and federal marriage amendments galore. Plus as far as Sheriff Joe goes, I'm not saying he doth protest too much. But I'm not the one stood around in a police uniform stroking my big, big gun watching Latinos I've arrested wear pink blouses and women's underwear that I've made them put on. He seems to know what he likes anyway.

I might have wandered off the point quite a bit there. Still - while we have weirdly hit the low thirty degrees for a couple of days straight the chance of snow here in The Devils Gusset is next to zero. Granted I did find myself having to scrape a very thin layer of frost of my windshield the other morning. I even whipped out the massive ice scraper I brought down from Upstate New York that I used to batter the six-inches of ice and snow off my car with. God I felt so manly. And then I instinctively looked at the wheel arches of my Jeep and felt a sense of sadness knowing I wouldn't get to kick those nasty grey-black barnacles of sludge that would inevitably collect there all winter long in New York. Personally I do miss hearing this sound. But dear God that looks cold.

Nevertheless, my son plopped himself into his seat on the drive to school one days this week and asked, ".....WHY isn't it going to snow here?" He already knew the answer to that. And he let that fact hang in the air after he finished speaking. So I didn't make too much of an effort to explain it. After that he spoke about how - if you really want snow - you can drive ninety minutes north to Flagstaff and there's sometimes some there. But not like in New York. And that he remembers how every year he and his sister would be taken out to cut down a fresh tree in the snow a few weeks before Christmas. Of course he's only five. So I think his memory of doing that is more recounting my own memory of doing that with. Last year the kids mother drove up to Flagstaff with them to cut one down in an attempt to keep up that tradition. Evidently the reminder of what snow is like - be it a half inch of the stuff - was enough to jog her memory as to why she wanted to live on the surface of the Sun. So they didn't do that. I did ask them if they wanted to and both of them said that actually that sounds like it would be way too cold.We've all turned into pussies.

Speaking of which my son lost my best winter hat. Let's overlook the fact that I should never be wearing a hat. You'd think with my satellite-dish ears that a hat would be a good thing. Trust me - no. Regardless my son misplaced it at school. Which isn't remotely his fault. I knew when I started plopping it on his head that it was likely to last for three weeks at best. So I spent twenty minutes looking up winter hats online to see what was knocking around. Most that I saw seem to be deliberately absurd. Like this one below. Maybe it's just me but that's got an odd Karma Sutra vibe. Although to be fair the panda doesn't come up (...I can practically hear Sid James' rude laugh) in that. It's more pretending to be a flamingo or a duck.

Like all pandas this man is now notoriously difficult to mate with.
 I did just look through my closet to see what proper cold weather stuff I brought with me. It's all very functional. Meaning it looks terrible. But because where I lived in NY it was below zero for months on end you mostly gave up on any pretense of looking nice and wore anything that would keep you warm. So I have ridiculously expensive winter coat in there. Snow boots. Other boots I'd wear to stomp about in the slush and ice. Plus a balaclava. Frankly looking at it now it's got quite a serial killer vibe to it. Nobody should be wearing a balaclava AND a red, puffy Marmot jacket. Ever. I did find this photo from a few years ago today though. Yes -  I really am wearing those clothes.

What precisely am I pointing at? And why is my finger on fire?
Still - I want the kids to experience something wintery this Christmas. Which is precisely why I think I'll let them watch me drink snowballs on Christmas Day while they open their presents.

I'm sure they'll appreciate that.

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