A Controversial Opinion

I must first point out that this is Dan because I am about to voice an opinion that seems to be in the minority. In fact, it's an opinion that draws incredulous looks and indignant snorts. So prepare yourself.

Ready? Here it is:



That's right. That's me expressing the unpopular opinion that December at the beach is infinitely preferable to December in the mountains and snow. Just wait, I haven't gotten sacrilegious yet. I would rather have Christmas morning with a view of the beach than with a view of snow-covered mountains.

Disown me if you must, but there you have it. The only white Christmas I want is sea-foam white (er, off-white to green, depending on the beach of course).

I had always kinda suspected I felt that way. I enjoyed the beach in Madagascar as much as anyone could without touching the water. Yesterday, we spent the afternoon at Half Moon Bay, and while we quietly watched the sunset over the ocean, I came to the realization that I won't miss the snow. In fact, I am ecstatic that I won't see a snowflake this year. I tremble with joy at the thought that I won't have to shovel a single sidewalk or pay for hip-reconstruction after an unfortunate encounter with an ice patch.

I'm content to let the sand exfoliate my feet ... even though I'm still not clear on what this exfoliation stuff is and why it's desirable. Regardless, I have it. Envy me, ladies.

To be fair, I've never had many reasons to truly love the snow. I don't ski; I don't snowboard; I've never even been ice skating. Hockey, is cool, I guess, but I don't play it. One of my most frightened moments as a child involved a chunk of frozen snow and a broken window. And my snowball manufacturing skills are woefully inadequate. I have yet to achieve more than an uncertain draw in a snowball fight, and that was with a third-grader ... two years ago.

Don't get me wrong. There are things I like about snow. It's beautiful right after a snowfall, when everything is swathed in a glowing blanket of white. Snow days were the holy grail of our youth. We prayed for those harder than we prayed for peace on earth, good will toward men. Actually, I can't recall praying for world peace as a child. We prayed for snow days harder than we prayed to win our next game of Pogs.

I do love sledding and snowmobiling. I've almost died doing both, but that doesn't take away from the fun of it. Nevertheless, we rarely get in more than one good sledding session in a single year, and I haven't been snowmobiling since I was 16. So it hardly seems worth it to endure months of snow-bound agony for a few hours of fun.

So enjoy your snow; you can have my portion. Send me your photos of lawns blanketed in shimmering white and I'll compliment you, honestly. I'll also be grateful I didn't have to witness it in person. Oh, and if we do come visit, I'll hound you incessantly about scheduling a monster sledding day. But other than that, I'll stay inside with some hot cocoa for the rest of our visit.

I know I'm mostly alone in this opinion. Please don't be offended. I'm completely okay with you enjoying your mountainous driveways and near-collisions with other harried drivers skidding around on the slush, constantly accusing everyone else of not knowing how to drive in the snow.

But if you get a chance, come on over and we'll spend some quality time with our feet in the sand, listening to the crashing waves.

It's magic.

And it's addictive. We'll see if you don't change your tune. C'mon, who doesn't want to spend a December like this: