Where the drifts get deeper.

(Pre-Script: This post must be paired with the song, "Winter," by Tori Amos. Take special care to pick the song by Tori Amos, since there is another song on my playlist called "Winter" that is by Joshua Radin. It's another good song, but not right for this post. Please go down to the playlist, click on the correct song, then come back and resume reading. I'll wait...) (...still waiting...turtleneck required in 60 degree weather.)

It doesn't snow in the part of California where I live*.

I have little experience with extreme weather conditions.

Okay, I lied, I have NO experience with extreme weather conditions,

I have ZERO experience with ZERO degree weather, and beyond. As if beyond zero could ever exist. But it does. Which baffles me, in advanced math as in weather.

I have visited the snow, tried snowboarding, skiing, tobogganing; I don't know why, because as a rule, I try to avoid plummeting down steep inclines very fast, and as another rule, I try to avoid sitting on thin, rickety looking benches that are intended to lift me high up off the ground, but slowly, so as to draw out the torture, especially since I have no idea how to get off of that bench, at the end of the ride of terror. In other words, I try to avoid activities that remind me of my intense fear of heights, especially when combined with my intense fear of extreme weather.

Every visit I have made to the snow has only solidified and confirmed what I already suspected, which is this:

Snow is fantastic for metaphors and stories.

Not so much for real life.

In real life, snow can freeze you and burn you.

and now that I think about it, just take the word "snow" out of that last sentence, and replace it with any other word, which will also apply.

-XOXO,

*But I always run off where the drifts get deeper, always. It's where my heart, mind, and soul live.