True confession right here. I hate wind. I just do.
I have lived most of my life in the Midwest, trying to work with it. I fix my hair and it gets all undone, landing like a mop on my face. If I wear a skirt or dress, I am desperately grabbing it to prevent the whole Marilyn Monroe repeat.
My grandmother lived in dusty, windy western Kansas all of her life and escaped to her typewriter for consolation, creating imaginary worlds with her gift of words. She hated the wind too but worked at being a cheerful, positive person anyway.
I guess that is not a bad thing. Adversity can make us bitter or better. We can shake our fists and curse the darkness so to speak, or light a candle.
If we can’t change it, we can fight it or embrace it, work with it, or tolerate it…
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