Somewhere along the line I fell out of love with winter.

Actually, it’s a little more than that. The truth is I flat-out hate it.
I don’t like being cold. I don’t like snow.

As Joe Frazier once famously said to Muhammad Ali, who had just declared himself God upon one of their famous clashes, “God, you in the wrong place tonight.”

I’m in the wrong place this weekend.

In other words, we’re expecting snow. Lots of it.

I now consider snow as something akin to what my mother once said about
Christmas: It’s for children. So is snow.

I won’t bore you with all the problems a big snowstorm creates for those of us who happen to toil in the newspaper world. We don’t gloat in it, as our counterparts in the TV world do.

In fact, there is almost nothing that grates on my nerves as much as the way weather – in particular snow – is handled on TV.

But then that’s my problem, along with getting a staff into the paper, then covering what is a very big story, as much as a foot of snow, and then wondering if we’ll actually be able to deliver the paper.

It’s been a long time since I actually enjoyed snow. And this comes from someone who lived in Colorado and at one time was a fairly accomplished skier.

I’m actually embarrassed to tell people this, but I had never been on skis before I went out there, and have not been on skis since I came back.

I’m not thinking this weekend will be any different. Unless you count me sliding all over the road while trying to drive home.

If you’rer like me, do yourself a favor. Turn off the radio. Don’t look at TV.

In other words, brace yourself for non-stop weather hyperventilating.

What do you think is the over-under on the number of times we’ll hear a local TV star breathlessly tell us: “Here it comes.”

Spare me. Wake me when spring arrives.