Winter comes with a particular warning that does not let up until the snow is gone. That warning is the complaining the cat does – the white one, no less. His frisky tail should spend some time dodging fang-y, hungry reptiles in Florida and then maybe he would appreciate the season. Or at least shut up about it. The tabby cat is only really concerned about the food, litter box, and a lap to sit in regardless of what’s happening with the weather or any other global catastrophe not affecting those three necessities.

I suppose I can like pieces of winter, but I do not like pre-Halloween snow. Please keep Halloween time untainted by premature Christmas marketing. This is a real childhood necessity whether you grew up with it or not. Please don’t bury it on us.

Anyhow, once we’re far enough into November I guess the flakes gotta fly and we get the Christmas malarkey going. Now, I don’t really hate Christmas but the old Christmases are in the past and seasonal angst is otherwise upon us until we’ve sweated it out into a new year! Which a lot of people everywhere start with drinking – too much. Couldn’t we have a salad and maybe take out a really good book. Seriously. Steinbeck, Orwell, Oscar Wilde, something you’re going to learn from. I’m going to go off about reading inevitably no matter the season, but if you’re stuck in the cold, fortify yourself with a good book.

Honestly, I’ve seen the “Reading, give it a shot!” slogan dragged around at hockey games. Games I was working at, not watching. You’re going to get the dumb cow look from me if you’re coming at me with an Oiler’s jersey talking about the new rookie, Puckie McStick, and how much money he makes.

Walking outdoors is a basic activity through all seasons but you can’t do it too long or too ambitiously in the winter. It’s really pretty though and that’s really nice to share with my painter partner. I can kiss her like she’s Princess Leia on the ice planet Hoth. (Star Wars is an essential film of our generation, although I’m not much into the other films besides the original trilogy. Empire was the BEST due to Carrie Fisher and writer Leigh Brackett. I’m not going to drool over George Lucas – he can do that all by himself.)

Memories of winters of childhood snowdrifts you could build forts in! I’m too tall now and I have an apartment with a whiny cat. I’d bury him in a snow pile until spring if I though it would stop the crying, but it would probably make it worse and I’d feel too guilty.

Reinhardt lives in Boyle Street with his wife Keri Breckenridge and will be a guest columnist for a few issues.