I (Almost) left my Fur lined boots in NYC

Now,PETA, don’t get your fur balls in an uproar. My boots were faux-fur lined – no polyesters were destroyed to make them – although in  my earlier, less enlightened days, I did own some unfaux-fur garments, but even then I never had much use for PETA. I believe that every person should answer to the conscience that was installed at the time of construction, and we should not rely on a universal conscience for our own straight and narrow. That said, let’s go marching on to my faux fur lined boots.

As with many persons who were not born in the South, we northerners regard Florida as the land of perpetual warmth and the skies are not cloudy all day, although there is more than a bit of rain at times. Therefore, before heading south, I divested myself of almost all of my cold weather garments, keeping a few, because my daughter in law warned me that the skies might not be cloudy but they were also not always sunny and baby, sometimes it was COLD outside. I kept my boots because when you’ve been brought up with the imminence of ice and snow, it always hovers in the back of your mind, come winter. And unlike mowing the lawn, you can’t postpone shoveling snow until you’re in the mood. Which in my case was never but that’s a whole different tale.

Less than two weeks before Xmas and the temperature drops to 50 degrees. In NY I would put on a jacket, but in Florida, out come the ski jackets, the caps and the gloves. The gleeful TV anchor predicts even cooler temperatures and at night it has dropped to below 40 degrees. My plants did not bring any winter tarps with them, so this afternoon, with a prediction of a hard frost tonight and temperatures perhaps in the twenties, I drag in all my plants, which seem heavier the second time around. Good for my muscles, I grunt to myself, with a chorus of what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.

I don’t care. Tomorrow I will wear my faux fur lined boots, boots which I wear in NYC when the snow has fallen and the ice has formed, but that’s never going to happen here. I don’t care if the eyebrows get raised, because that’s part and parcel of growing older disgracefully. I will know I’m being true to myself and isn’t that what it’s all about? Or maybe they’re just jealous.

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