My War with the Weather

I recently returned from a nice spring vacation with my family. It was nice, only because I was with my family. The weather was awful. Let's review, when you go on "spring break," you expect a modicum of spring, as in, warmth, sunshine, occasional light showers to bring May flowers. You do not expect a thirty-degree drop in temperature in a two hour period, nor do you expect rain to become snow during your nature hike, five miles from the ranger station, when all you're wearing is a pair of shorts, a tee shirt and Birkenstock sandals. This is exactly what happened to me and my family, during our trek to Newfound Gap in the Great Smoky Mountains. If you factor in the temperature drop, plus the 25 mph winds, we're talking single-digit cold, here. We're talking frostbitten fingers, numb noses, and "I ain't gettin' outta the car to hike to the bathroom" cold. Not the spring break I was looking for, to paraphrase Obi Wan Kenobi. I'm a Bad Weather Magnet, my whole life. You want a sunny day for your picnic? Leave me off the invitation list or you'll get driving rains and flash floods. I've done the golfball-size hail in June in New Mexico, the tornado in February where tornadoes never happen, blazing heat in the Swiss Alps, and snow in the Sonoran desert. Once my friend Bryan and I rode the chairlift to the top of Aspen Mountain in July on a gorgeous summer day, ditto the shorts, tee shirts and sandals. The very second our butts left the chairlift, the wind gusted, the temp dropped to sub-freezing and a viscous fog made visibility akin to what you see when you're taking Mepergam post-surgery. Let's review, we were standing on a cliff, as in, Certain Death Drop-off, and it's foggy and cold. Was that enough? No, of course not. The Weather Gods weren't yet appeased, because it began to snow. Bryan and I sat on the ground and inched our way down the mountain to warmer weather, where a woman resembling my mother hollered, "Where's your coat?" Bryan immediately broke off all correspondence, and can you blame him? As a result of my climatic trials, I'm a Weather Channel freak, trying in vain to fend off storms before I accept any social invitations. My colleagues, friends and family call me "Wendy Weather Girl" but what they'd really like to call me is "Bad Weather Hex Priestess." Next year for spring break, I'm going to Iceland, and maybe I'll at least get a good tan.