Ihate the snow. It's hard to believe that a few years ago I would be happy to see it falling on the back porch of my parents' house. Snow was the mythical, magical stuff of transformation, at least until the dogs went out and turned it into a giant white, yellow, and brown exhibition piece. I always wished for a white Christmas. But now I can't even stand that cold, wet smell that blows out of the mountains in the middle of winter.
What could turn such a fantasy into the stuff of horror movies? What would ever drive me to pack my bags and haul ass to Florida forever? (Other than being a total hurricane nut?) I think my abhorrence to snow started with this incident in 1994.
My Dad and I were the first of our family to arrive in Nevada after our move. We made it to Reno just in time for the first snowfall of the year. Fortunately, our motel room had heat, and we were warm and toasty. We watched the giant lawn across the street turn white with freshly fallen powder. When the snow fi
2007-11-05
13:02:27
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