Dear January,

I like you.  I truly do.  You are a month of not so much on the calendar, fresh starts, and a house clear of clutter.  You are when I get to stop saying "Do you need me to call Santa?" as an idle threat.  That alone to me is priceless. 

  But you are COLD.  My Southern California toes prefer flip flops.  All this wearing of shoes, tromping through icy parking lots and feeling like I need to wear socks in the house is killing me.