Picture at left: Me attempting to fulfill my secret dream of being a professional figure skater... In the background, my friend Kristy actually being a professional figure skater :)
When choosing a college, one usually has a number of requirements a university must meet for the student to consider attending. For some teenagers, a requirement is exceptional food (a rarity these days). For others, a requirement may be a specific sport. And for most, the student’s major of interest is a must. For me, on the other hand, it was the weather.
I am “A Girl for All Seasons,” to make a run off of Robert Bolt’s famous play in two acts, “A Man for All Seasons.” Beginning with spring and ending with winter, I love each of the seasons for their own special characteristics: spring for the lovely shape my figure takes on as I inevitably give up one of my favorite fatty foods for Lent, summer for the way this newfound figure looks in a bathing suite (not to mention the fabulous barbeques), fall for the ability to cover up with a heavy sweater the weight I gained during the summer months from all those barbecues, and winter because I never have to shave my legs due to the fact I wear pants all season. Honestly, each season coincides perfectly with the others in regards to food, the substance of which my life revolves around.
Thus, when I was participating in my own college search, a university in an area that experiences all seasons was a must. I looked in Minnesota, the state of my birth, but could not fathom living in a place with only two seasons: the “my scarf is soggy from my nose running all over it but I cannot take it off for fear that my nose will fall off from frostbite” winter from September to May and the “a force field of humidity is strangling me” summer from May to August. Cincinnati fared better than Minnesota with its delightfully crisp fall seasons and delectable spring and summer seasons, however, the “just enough snow to get you up early to watch in anticipation the ticker at the bottom of the TV screen to see if school is cancelled only to be disappointed as the names skip right from ‘St. There is an Inch of Snow on the Ground so we Have to Call off School High’ to ‘We Get a Snow Day and You Don’t Academy,’ leaving you out of luck and now late for school because you were watching television for so long” winters turned me off immediately. Then came Kentucky. Kentucky, with all the perks of every season without even the smallest chance of snow days making there be no chance for my hopes to be dashed; it seemed the perfect solution to my weather dilemma. [Sarcastic laugh here] If only I had known…
As it turns out, two hours south does decrease the chances of snow. In fact, we get very little snow around here. What I did not count into my equation, however, is that while two hours south gives a temperature change too warm for snow, it does not raise the temperature above freezing, making my part of Kentucky the prime candidate for something much worse than snow… ice.
And so here I am, in Kentucky, spending every day of winter (which at least has the decency to stick within its three month allotment) gripping to my roommate’s arm as we slip and slide our way through campus (which of course is built on a series of hills of colossal proportions), leaving me with only one important lesson to pass on to you.
Screw the seasons, I’m moving to Bermuda.
