Strangely enough, it looks like it should snow outside.

Gray looming clouds. Gnarled tree branches swaying in the wind.

It’s not gonna snow, of course. A cold front did come through and it’s a brisk 39 degrees, but it’s not gonna snow. We only get that about twice a year, and usually it’s gone by the next day.

I love snow, in small amounts. I’m not a winter girl. I’m not one of those who wishes to live atop a snowcapped mountain in my cabin that is only accessable by snowmobile 6 months out of the year. I don’t want to have to wear insulated underwear everyday. I don’t want to have to dress like a 7-layer burrito just to go buy groceries. I wouldn’t mind visiting for a week, but truly, that’d be enough for me.

Give me sand, sun, and surf. Flip flops year around. Heat warming my cheeks when I step out of my refrigerated house. Little beads of sweat (okay, big beads of sweat) dotting my forehead while I take a jaunt down the shoreline. The smell of salt in the air.

When I hit the lottery–it’ll be all mine.