1. Consisting of members or elements of different kinds; of mixed character: a book of miscellaneous essays on American history.

2. Having various qualities, aspects, or subjects: a miscellaneous discussion.

Friday, August 26, 2011

Mars & Venus VS. Summer & Autumn

I always say that I never complain about the heat and humidity because I complain about the cold and snow.  I figure I only have the right to whine about one season’s extremes and I choose winter.  I really dislike winter.  Once the charm of the first snowfall has worn off (that takes about 30 minutes for me) and we have (or don’t have) a white Christmas, you can keep all that white fluffy stuff.  I detest winter sports even more than summer ones and we don’t exactly live in a ski lodge in Denver.  I have no use for snow and ice.  None.

I put a positive spin on even the muggiest August days by saying you don’t have to shovel humidity.  You can put your air conditioning on and sip cold lemonade (spiked or virgin) and feel completely comfortable.  As my husband Kevin says, at least it doesn’t HURT to go outdoors in the summer.  Sure, snow can be pretty… if you have the luxury of never having to shovel or never have to run to the store because you’re out of groceries.  If you don’t have to work and can essentially hibernate, sure, winter is just fantastic.

“Oh, I could NEVER leave Wisconsin  I’d miss the change of seasons!”  If I had a dollar for every nutbag I’ve heard that from I could easily retire and live in Hawaii which is ultimately our goal.  Yeah, I’d really miss salt stains on my black pants, frostbite, wind chill factors colder than Alaska, and having to warm up my car for 10 minutes before I can comfortably drive over ice-covered roads, risking my life for a loaf of bread at the store.  I’d HATE watching palm trees sway in balmy breezes, swimming in the ocean daily, and eating fish so fresh it was in that same ocean swimming with me an hour before it landed on my plate.  That sure would be torture.

Having said all of that, I truly love Autumn.  I love it as much as Kevin hates it.  He sees the end of summer as nothing more than “winter is here.”  I see the end of summer as cooler evenings that we can sleep with windows open.  I see vibrant colors of leaves, smell the crispness in the mornings over a cup of hot tea.  I find even more reasons to bake and our kitchen is usually filled with scents of cinnamon, allspice and cloves.  I welcome the opportunity to wear jeans again, and even a sweater.  I don’t have to worry about tan lines any more.  My hair returns to a somewhat manageable condition not battling humidity.  My nesting instincts are in full swing and there is such a feeling of accomplishment when I do my fall cleaning and annual “pantry purge and rearrange.”

Kevin says the only good thing about fall is college football.  He moans and groans each evening as the sun sets minutes earlier than the night before.  He grumbles about what our heating bills are going to be in the coming winter.  (Mind you he never complains about the increased cost associated with using air conditioning 24/7.)  That man will wear shorts and flip flops into October, some of the same days I am wearing jeans and a long-sleeved top.  Of course Kevin says I could sit on a stove and still be cold, so I do tend to dress “toastier” than he does.

On chilly fall evenings, Kevin will glance out the window and mumble, “Look at this…  a couple months ago we were outside grilling at this time, Kyla was running around in the grass and I was drinking a Tanqueray and tonic.”  I will look out that same window and say, “Look at those gorgeous leaves.  Tomorrow Kyla and I will rake them up and jump in them and we’ll come inside and drink hot cider.”

Part of the difference is just me and Kevin… he prefers warm weather and summer fun, I prefer fall.  I am the eternal optimist, he is my Eeyore.  But I do believe that in general, men favor the warm weather and women look forward to chilly days and cozy nights.  I think we’re hard-wired that way.  Men are happy when we’re in our little tank tops and short-shorts, and we can’t wait for the days we can wear leggings and over-sized sweaters.  They want to make man-food over an open flame, we want to braise meat in our cast-iron casserole dish.  They want to toss back a couple cold ones, we want to mull cider.  They want to cut grass, we want to carve pumpkins.  Every man/woman combo I talk to operates this way.  I don’t think we will ever change.  Which is why I think I could make millions with my own book:

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