El Nino You’re Drunk, Go Home

This weather is ridiculous. Sunshine, 60 degrees and no snow. WTF? It’s mid-December and this is the Midwest; this kind of weather is unacceptable. Normally by this time of year we’ve got a blanket of snow and ass-numbing cold. Instead we’re riding bikes and wearing flip-flops (And it’s quite evident that most people do the mani and skip the pedi in December. Ewww.) Mama is not down with this.

According to the perky blonde weather girl with the Zumba-butt on last night’s news, this weather isn’t going anywhere either. It seems the majority of the U.S. is caught in an extreme El Nino weather pattern bringing unseasonable warmth and it’s likely to remain until late January. Now, I’m not banking on Zumba-butt being correct as Indiana weather people are notorious for being wrong, (I’ve never seen weather people that are so reliably incorrect. A few weeks ago they predicted possible rain showers. We got 3 inches of snow.) but the thought of a few more weeks of this blows.

All of this begs the question, just who is this El Nino anyway? I’d never heard of him until a few years ago when he blew in throwing hot air everywhere and now he seems to coming back on the reg. Who issued El Nino a visa? Has he been checked out with Homeland Security because I find his motives questionable? (I’m married to a foreigner and spent 7 years in immigration hell so I get to make immigrant jokes.)

This whole weather thing is troubling to me for many reasons. For one, next week is Christmas and this weather is killing my Christmas groove. I haven’t been moved to consume a single schnapps-filled, hot cocoa by the fire yet because it’s too damn hot for a fire. And what do I wear? Don we now our… ugly Christmas …t-shirt? All my gay apparel is cold-weather wear. How is Santa supposed to arrive? On a bike? And what do we leave out for him, a tall glass of ice-cold margarita (Ok, now that I think about it that might be a great improvement. Perhaps I’ll suggest the kids leave a little umbrella in it too.)

But the real issues is the damage already caused to me by El Nino. I love winter for three very specific reasons. These little cold weather perks are what get me though those months of sweat pouring down my butt-crack while my pastey skin turns crimson but now, El Nino has taken them from me like a damn thief.

1. Cold weather provides a much needed hiatus from the playground. 

I love my children but I’ve done a lot of years at the playground and I’m over it. That, “Push me Mom!” crap gets old and I’m looking at eight more years, at least, on my playground sentence. When winter sets in, it is the only time I don’t have to spend copious hours of my day outside throwing a football, pushing a swing or pulling my child away from kissing every freakin’ dog within a two mile radius. I live to say, “Too cold to go outside, go upstairs and play.” Thanks to El Nino, I’ve been at the playground every damn day for a week and I see no end in sight. You bastard, El Nino.

2. Cold Weather is a little gift, allowing one to take legit exercise vacations.

Another perk of winter is that I get to slack off the exercising. I hate gyms. They’re stinky and humid and the last thing I need are walls of mirrors displaying the exact bulges and dimples I’m there to execute. Give me a trail or an outdoor track and I’m good to go. The advantage of this outside only exercise regime is that with cold temps my excuse to lay off is legit. “Can’t run today, too cold. Can’t bike, too cold for the kid in the trailer.” It’s perfect. Thanks to El Nino, I haven’t had a single break in my normal exercise schedule. You bastard, El Nino.

3. Cold weather calls for all the joys of hibernation preparation.

In order to successfully make it though a Midwestern winter, one must adapt the practices of the animal kingdom, packing on the pounds and laying on the ass. Moderation in food consumption and limited television won’t get you though -15 degrees. No, winter is the time to choose the full-fat mayo and binge-watch for survival. One needs those extra bits of cellulite on one’s thighs to make it to April and the best way to keep that is through chowing-down and not burning a single calorie. It’s a scientific fact. (I mean, I have no clue if it is but I’m sure somewhere in one of those Dunkin Donut funded university studies they’ve proven this. P.S. what do I need to do to be a test subject in a study like that?)

Thanks to El Nino, with all the exercising and playgrounding I’ve not managed to gain a damn pound. I’ve only my normal, year-round level of thigh dimples. What if El Nino up and rolls in a few weeks and the frigid weather arrives? What will become of me? I shudder at the thought. You bastard, El Nino.

I think my case has been made El Nino. You’re more than welcome to hit me up around March, after I’ve spent a few months huddled under multiple layers and trapped indoors with surly children, but now I need a little winter. I’ve worked hard and I need my “Too cold to go out,” response. As is my usual norm in social situations, I will be the one to say what everyone else is thinking: “El Nino, go home. You’re drunk. No one wants you here.”

Perhaps this is El Nino?