In Search of Dessert

During the gray winter months, I sort of inched around like an injured worm. I told Jon, he could keep his "Look on the bright side," and "Find yourself a way to like it," to himself. I’m not a winter-gal, and that’s that.

So why did he think I’d be out frolicking in the snow, on the way to warm and sunny destination, just because it was there? It’s April. I already did the winter thing, remember?

"It’s not that cold," he says. And yet, I believe I see his shoulders shaking.

The view is truly of a wild and beautiful expanse of glistening snow – we’re at the Simplon Pass of the Valais Alps – sealed over with the thinnest layer of ice so that the landscape looks like the perfectly smooth outside of a porcelain bowl. Not an imperfection, or an unruly bump of fluff to be seen. Still, can’t I just enjoy it from the car?

"It doesn’t mean I don’t think it’s pretty!" I yelled, at he shut the car door and stuck out his tongue.

And do you know what he called me? I don’t. It was in French. But I think it was the equivalent to a "stick in the mud."

THAT’S WHAT HE GETS!!