The Way Home

San Diego is, apparently, experiencing some lovely weather these days, while the rest of us poor suckers are in the midst of a Deep Freeze.

But good for them, I say. It's supposed to be sunny and 75° and perfect there every day; I mean, they don't call it San Diego for nothin'.

Gazing longingly at Jacquie's sun-drenched and beachy photos yesterday made me almost like the contrast between that West Coast and this East one. Okay, like's not the right word. But at this point in January it seems like winter will be here forever, so looking at those photos is like watching a science fiction movie, or reading fantasy fiction about a world far away and totally different than ours.

And nothing shows the difference between that far-away world and this ice-encrusted one more than our trip home from Chicago last month.

Despite our hugely successful drive west, Mom had planned to fly home, so Mistah and I pointed Lexie east and drove it ourselves.

And the land was absolutely frozen in.

The colors were all muted blues and whites and grays, as opposed to those vibrant California ocean blues and azure skies and pinkpurpleorange sunsets.

But because I'm now convinced it will be winter forever, I'm living in the moment . . . 

. . . appreciating the stark, frozen landscape . . .

. . . reveling in the glory of winter misery.

I love these half-blurred, out-the-window shots;
they're so Rainman.

Yes, my friends, it looks like winter is here to stay this year.

So  my advice is to revel in it and glory in it and appreciate it for what it is:

Cold and muted and icy and snowy and frozen.

They don't call it winter for nothin'.