I remember going outside and playing all day in what seemed like feet of snow. Now a big storm is a couple of inches. I remember Dad carrying me and my sister to a local store to get us boots. They were those cute red ones that had elastic bands that hooked around a button to close. We usually wore them with bread bags over our socks so we wouldn't get our pants all wet. I now wear what I call "duck shoes" and would never even think about putting on bread bags. When I was a little older I remember going sledding at a local golf course and hoping that whatever it was you were sliding on (sled, cardboard box, trash can lid) would stop before you hit the creek. I never made it that far but our Associate Pastor once ran into a tree and couldn't sit comfortably for awhile. It's been decades since I've heard of anyone going sledding there.
When I was a kid I looked forward to snow. Now I look forward to it melting. I'm tired of scraping my car in the morning, saying goodbye to my husband as he goes out to salt and plow and hoping I don't fall on my face as I try to make it into work in the morning. I still enjoy how pretty it looks while it's coming down, I just hope that it's all gone by morning.
Quote for the day: The aging process has you firmly in its grasp if you never get the urge to throw a snowball. Doug Larson
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