My wife Sarah says that winter is the only thing I truly hate.
I cuss the cold, full of rage and venom, damning the coat, layers of clothing and shoes.
"HONEY" Sarah says I as spew hatred. "THE GIRLS!"
"I HATE IT!" I spit.
"I love snow," Laurel sweetly says.
At that moment I want to be a participating member of the National Rifle Association.
"You can have all of mine for the rest of my life," I fire.
"Can we go Ice Skating?" Maddie asks.
"Oh for Christ's sake!" I say turning on the oven and sticking my hands inside.
Cassidy, the 7 year old, sashays into the kitchen wearing a fur coat and boots claiming she's ready to go.
Of course the girls wear long pants, boots and coats to school on 97 degree days because ... they were obviously raised by Fernando Lamus ... "It's more important to look good than to feel good!"
I live with girls who love something I passionately, unequivocally hate with everything inside of me.
"Hey!" Laurel exclaims, "let's roast marshmallows over the fire."
My kids gave me a Chiminea that sits on the Beloved Back Deck and, in the fall and the spring, I light fires because the only good thing about being cold is a fire.
Over the past few years Sarah's girls love to sit outside with me shivering and stick marshmallows in the fire.
I admit ... I enjoy these times.
But that's about it when it comes to winter.
This morning there was a nip in the air.
"Son of a Bitch," I mutter climbing on my bike ... then deciding it's too chilly and drive to the The Breakfast Club for coffee.
It's 79 degrees as I write this.
FINALLY!
It's 4 degrees above my threshold for cold.
Winter's coming. Sarah's talking about going to New York. People anticipate leaves changing color. Pumpkins are almost ripe. Leaves will soon crunch. Fleece will be vogue.
To Hell with all of it!
I'm a son of a Beach!
I love hot and I love warm!
And I never want to be cold again!
I've been told it starts with the heart.
I hope so.
Cause Sarah keeps mine pretty toasty.
Alright I'm going skinny dipping while I still can.
