FROM WHERE I SIT Land of Endless Snow Feb. 17, 2014 p.d.spilseth
Can you believe it? The gentle breezes, sun and warm white sand were lovely in Ft. Lauderdale, but I actually missed the snow. However, now that I’m back in the Land of Endless Snowfall, I’m happy to stay inside my warm house looking out the windows at the frozen lake with huge drifts, bare black limbs and birds flying to the birdfeeder.
For a few days last week I was in Never-Never Land...days of sunshine, ocean breezes and sandy beaches. In January, I thought I might want to be a snowbird. I’d jump on a plane and fly south each winter to some idyllic place in the sun.
But I got bored! I mean, how many days does it take for a northerner to feel relaxed in the hot sun by the pool, walk the beach, read another beach book and get sunburned? Five days did me in. I’m not cut out for parking my body in a lounge chair at the pool with a fluffy romance or a gruesome mystery. I get no satisfaction. I need winter in Minnesota, with a few short R&R breaks...thank goodness for flying privileges, courtesy of my husband, the pilot. HIs line, “Marry me; fly for free” has given me no end of adventures.
My Scandinavian heritage and that Puritan work ethic many of us were raised with, grabbed me, tossed me out of the louge chair, and threw me back to my roots of snowflakes, snowbanks and frozen lakes.
I missed my neighborhood & my identity as DESSERT QUEEN. I had withdrawal symptoms when I didn’t have my pots and pans, bowls, spatulas and beaters. It’s essential for my good nature to be baking cookies, blueberry muffins, delectable chocolate tortes, brownies or fruit kuchen and sweet breads. Who, but me, feels like baking when lounging on the beaches of hot, sunny Florida?
It’s just not me to be idle. I’m not comfortable playing Bouncy Barbie to JLO and her hip hop musicians who were filming a commercial in Ft. Lauderdale for the Brazilian World Cup in Rio. The buses of crews and extras caused traffic jams in front of our hotel. Tourists and time sharers were gaga, oogling for a look-see at the starlets and muscle-rippling hunks.
I’ll never have a body even close to JLo, Jennifer Anniston or Catherine Zeta Jones. I’m Dessert Queen in my Rubenesque figure, loving moments munching on chocolates, indulging in a glass or two of vino.
All the oohs and aahs at the hotel of sunburnt northerners swooning over the dancing hipsters was quite a spectacle. The “extras” clothed in tophats, tall, slinky boots and teeny, tiny shorts and miniscule tops were not my style. Makeup artists had a field day glamorizing the crew for their one day ‘gig’ on the ocean strip of bars, tattoo parlors and fast food joints. Spanish words and rhythms riccochoted through the air to the beat of hip hop, jumpy music.
Give me the Beatles or Carole King...I want lyrics I understand and a beat I can groove to. None of that jumpin jive stuff for me.
Loved the ocean view from our window, the endless parade of skateboarders, runners pushing baby carts, bicyclists, homeless with their loaded shopping carts, and movie crew looking official in their dark sun glasses and identifying shirts.
My daily routine involved relaxing in the sun by the pool, searching for a new place to dine every evening, and sleeping 10 hours a night. We were up with the sun for coffee and a newspaper, a swim, another beach read...the endless cycle repeated itself. A bit bored, but we were so relaxed.
February by the pool or on the beach finds only the wealthy, seniors and grandkids. Who else has the time to sun by the pool in February? Wait until March for Spring Break when college kids flock to Mexico and Fort Lauderdale to party. Gentle breezes are lovely, but a week is plenty. I needed a MN break.
Home again, I’m content to smooze with Buddy, my loyal Beagle, who insists on sitting in my lap by the fireplace. Relaxing in my red leather chair, we sip coffee and read the newspaper which is announcing another snowstorm. This is winter. This is Minnesota. I’m home and lovin’ it! 735 words
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