Friday, April 11, 2014

Blogging A to Z: Igloo



(First time visiting during this year's A to Z Challenge?  Start here.)              
               Igloos are not as cold inside as you might think.  With the right company and a stack of furs, they can be downright cozy.  Or so I imagine.
                I have never been in an igloo.  I am not even sure that there are people who still build them or live in them.  I bet if they do, though, they have found a way not to feel cold while they are inside.  Otherwise, why would they live in them?  Why would they live so far north, if they had no way to ever feel warmth?  I really don't get people who like cold weather.
                I was born in a boring suburb of Miami in the summer of 1996.  On the day I was born, the high temperature was 110 degrees.  I have heard the heat of Arizona discounted because "it's a dry heat", and I have heard the rebuttal that so is the heat from an oven, but would you want to live in there?   I would probably not like living in an oven, but I also don't find sticky, sweaty suburban Miami to be all that  palatable in the summer, either.  I would take it over a snowstorm any day of the week, though.  Snow storms terrify me.  Avalanches, frozen lakes and very pointy icicles also make me feel a little ill.  That I have never personally encountered a single one of these things just adds to their mysterious horror.  I am convinced that my demise will come at the hand of something cold weather related.  When I shared this will my mother, she said that she thinks the prolonged exposure to Miami's summers has rotted my brain.  She may have a point.  But then again, she's from Minnesota, where people actually own snowshoes.  So clearly, she has an unhealthy bias in favor of winter.
                All of this would have remained, as my English teacher is fond of saying, "A purely philosophical discussion," if it hadn't been for the fat, red-stamped envelope that arrived in the mail last week.  Cornell University.  Full scholarship.  Just for little ol' me.  A dream come true.  Except that winter in upstate New York lasts eight months.  I am not exaggerating.  I read it on the Internet.  And not Wikipedia, either.  I searched "upstate New York blog" and yep, the first one that came up had a recent post all about the snow they just got.  Ten more inches.  It's the middle of March.  Or at least it is here in Miami.  Up there in Ithaca, it seems to be perpetually January. 
                So, what's an overachieving, school-loving, financial-aid needing, winter-coat-disavowing Floridian to do?  That's, my dears, is most definitely the question.

To be continued.

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