Sometimes I talk with a friend far away and they say, "Has the heat broken there yet?" and I say, "Nope. But the forecast is for cooler days soon." This has been true for many weeks now, but the promised cooler weather has never come.

I am a person who generally loves the warmth and even though I lived in Colorado for decades, I never liked skiing because of the cold. (And the terror.) And shoveling icy sidewalks is an enormous drag. And if I never have to drive anywhere in a blizzard ever again, it will still be too soon.

But I miss snow.

I found myself last week gently sweating while sitting still, lost in a lovely daydream -- a warm log fire, hot chocolate, a big old armchair with a fluffy blanket, a good book, and outside the twilight windows, snow.

So Jonathan and I are planning a trip to Vienna when his school lets out for winter break. The Magic Flute will be playing at the Vienna Opera House, where it premiered with Mozart himself conducting it. The Christmas Market will be happening. You can take organized coffee and pastry tours of the city, going from cafe to cafe to cafe. I have found us a quaint little hotel. There might be snow.