It's Snowing!

For the first time this winter we're actually having real, live "snow." Last week the temps floated up around the 60's. But right now it's coming down in what is known loosely, in this part of the country, as a "snow squall." Not enough to be a blizzard, but enough to be annoying.

We've been having one of those Global Warming Winters that you hear so much about although my friends on the Left Coast would probably chime in that they're experiencing the same thing what with incessant rains, winds and mudslides.

I can take the cold of winter, but my fascination with snowstorms ended around 1960, when I stopped hitching rides on my Flexible Flyer sled, running out from between parked cars in order to throw myself to the roadway on the sled, while simultaneously wildly grabbing for the rear bumper of a car, a city bus, or an 18-wheeler. That, incidentally, was our idea of "fun" when I was a child. Until it invariably involved somebody losing a limb or a life and then we all got yelled at and grounded.

Snow, especially heavy snow, is now a major pain in the ass. Right now I'm sitting here trying to remember if I put the heavy duty ice scraper/snow brush in the back seat of the car, or if I left it at home. I don't worry about driving in the snow so much anymore, ever since I got the Honda Element. It has automatic 4-wheel drive, which kicks in when it senses that all the wheels are not spinning at the same speed. That baby has no problems with snow.

This, I think, is one of the consequences of aging. I love having seasons. I can't imagine living in a never-ending paradise where it's always 78 degrees and sunny. I would sorely miss the ravishingly gorgeous colors on a brilliant, crisp October morning, or the sublime pleasure of watching an entire street in my little town suddenly burst into riotous bloom on a warm, lazy, Spring afternoon.

But Winter?

Feh. What useful purpose does winter serve? (And all my skier friends can spare me the hate calls and emails).

I'm Dreaming of a White Easter

aka "Here Comes Peter Cotton Claus!"

We're freezing here in NJ. We had snow flurries earlier today. My only consolation for this "last blast" of winter is that, as bad as it is here in Jersey, it's even worse in Boston.

Actually, I'm having a hard time convincing myself that it's April 8th. The trees are still mostly barren, the skies gray and the grass is, well, still dead.

Nothing's peeking up out of the ground. No tulips, no nothing.

It could leave a boy feeling blue and blah on an Easter Sunday. I toyed with the idea of going to the movies to see something to cheer me up but the only choices are a little, well, disappointing to say the least.

It seemed to boil down to either "Blades of Glory", "300" or "Grind House."

See what I mean?

So, I dragged my butt into the living room and started channel surfing. Until, voila!

AMC is having a Shirley Temple Film Festival.

Bright Eyes. Curly Top. The Little Colonel. Wee Willie Winkie, Heidi, Little Miss Broadway and Susannah of the Mounties!

My Easter is saved. What can be more appealing, more innocent, more purely entertaining than an afternoon spent watching the films of that bundle of joy, America's Sweetheart and the kid who single-handledly saved Twentieth Century Fox, Shirley Temple?

That kid's innocent face and adorable talents have certainly raised my spirits on this otherwise deplorable Spring afternoon!