Twenty years go, just about when I met my future husband , I decided I was going to find a job "somewhere else." I was a teacher at the time, and had a California teaching credential, so at the time my sights were NOT set outside the golden state. Still, I took a several-day trip up into Central California to apply for teaching jobs. I'd guess most of the towns I applied in you have never heard of (and to be honest, I've forgotten most of their names as well), but not a single one of them panned out. Didn't even get an interview.
But then things between Marc and me got a bit more serious. How do I know this? Well, were engaged for one. But perhaps even more telling was that he brought me home for Christmas. And home, in case you haven't figured it out, was Michigan.
And Michigan, in case you don't realize it, generally is pretty cold during Christmas. And white. Southern California, on the other hand, is...well...not. Average high in my hometown in December? 67. In Jackson, Michigan, where Marc's folks live and where I spent most of that Christmastime? 34.
But did I complain?
Actually, yeah. Probably more than I'd like to admit. My West Coast body did NOT take well to those chilly temperatures - at least at first. As the week went on, I got a different perspective.
photo credit: memories_by_mike via photopin cc
Marc's folks decided that it was important that, as a first-time visitor to Michigan, I visit Frankenmuth, a lovely little German town/tourist attraction (Michigan's little Bavaria by their own slogan) around the central part of Michigan. Quaint little shops. Delicious food. The world's largest Christmas store. Really, a lovely and delightful place.
And it was in that little town that I realized that I could become a Michigan resident.
Not necessarily because of the quaint shops, the delicious food, or even the world's largest Christmas store (which held SUPREME interest to me, by the way, since I did not celebrate Christmas :::roll:::). But it was there I realized that the weather might not be a huge issue.
My husband and I were walking the streets of Frankenmuth, peeking into shops and enjoying the atmosphere, when we came to a bank--and not just any bank. It was one of those banks with an electric sign outside, showing the time and the temperature. I looked up, smiled, and said these immortal words.
"Twenty-three degrees? Oh, that's not too bad."Yup. That's when my husband knew I didn't have to be a beach girl: that I might actually survive in below-freezing weather. Within a year we were living in Michigan, and I was thrilled.
For two years (at least), I wanted to get out of Southern California. But it wasn't until I met Marc, and his home state, that I knew where I wanted to go.
So, the fact that it's supposed to be in the 20's for the forseeable future? That's not too bad. ;)