My mom is an honorary minister for our congretational church and every year I test out my singing skills with how I did the year before by pushing out my diaphragm and stomach when I sing so I can hear how I sound out the hymn as compared to the last service around this time. This year I couldn’t sit still. I kept thinking about the restaurant we were going to after, how I didn’t have much for lunch because I got to my uncle’s late and because I kept talking to my cousins since one of them got a cat, how I emptied out the last drop from three different wine glasses. I ‘d missed all the alcohol since my aunt doesn’t believe in it and since my parents forgot to bring a second bottle. It was 78 degrees for Christmas. Dangerous enough for me to put on a bathing suit and suntan in my backyard on the grass while my neighbors mowed their’s in Bahamas shorts. For our Christmas dinner we sat outside. We drank margaritas with straws, we turned down the air conditioner, we put ice in our sodas and we kept down our windows in the car. When it turned 40 degrees outside on Tuesday we all opened up our windows and kept them that way over night because it would save money from the electric company and because it was fun. I opened up flannel pajamas on Christmas day from my parents and I wore them all the time around the house even though I would wake up in the middle of the night throwing off the covers, turning on the fan, and opening up the air conditioning vents wider to feel more cool air. That morning in my flannel pajamas I asked my mom to build a fire and we all sat around it till we were too hot, with hot coffee watching logs that burned when we pushed the remote controller. I skipped Elf this year, I watched a Christmas Carol from Baltimore where at least it was below fifty degrees and I bought a packet of white sprinkles and spread them along my windowsill like salt to keep away ghosts and burglars and to make it seem cold for me. I wake up with the intention of wanting to keep my blinds shut and to turn the air conditioning down to 67 degrees when my parents leave for work to pretend that it’s cold out so that I could drink my coffee hot instead of cold. But then the sun gets through the cracks of their plantation shutters and I end up opening them anyway, go outside, exercise, and ride my bike. I heard somewhere on the news that it’s not snowing anywhere, not even New York. So we’re not way off. I think of other places where it might be snowing, like Colorado, like Nebraska, North Dakota. But then I think of all the homeless animals like cats and dogs and think that I prefer it this way because it’s livable this time of year instead of not.