It's friggin' hot again. It is one week until Christmas, and it's 80 degrees outside today. Seriously, Mother Nature?

When I was a kid, every year I asked Santa for two things: a pony, and snow. Every. Year. Christmas morning brought all kinds of goodies to my house, but never the two things I asked for. The Barbie Townhouse I got one year almost made up for the lack of snow and large animal, but the longing was still there.

I got to an age where I "understood" about Santa, so I started praying for snow. God, if you'll just let it snow this Christmas, I promise to be good for the rest of my life. I guess He knew he'd get the short end of the stick in that deal, because I never had my white Christmas.

I know, you're thinking that you'd love to be where snow shoveling and ice scraping are just things you see on TV. I love it most of the time, too - just not this week. Running the air conditioner on Christmas to keep from breaking a sweat opening gifts is just wrong. Having to crank the AC down to 50 so it feels like winter is wrong too, but we do it every year.

About two Christmases ago (yes, seriously), I finally came to terms with the fact that I'd never see snow on Christmas morning in Florida. This morning, Molly came to me and said, "Mommy, I really want snow for Christmas. Can you send Santa another email?" I told her it doesn't snow here. She drew a picture of snow and asked me to mail it to Santa.

Another tradition continues.