I'm dreaming of a White Christmas. No, I'm really not. Although I was born in northern Indiana, I have only one recollection of snow back from those days, of building a snowman and then watching from inside the house as my dad knocked it down later. My dad tells me of one time when I walked off the back porch and fell head first into a snow bank. He reached down and pulled me out by the ankles.So snow is white, but then again, a lot of things are, but how many of them are as cool as a beluga whale? Polar Bears maybe, but I don't have a photograph of a polar bear, so a white whale will have to do for today. But we won't call him Moby. No. Besides he has too nice of a smile to be Moby, although I can understand why Moby wasn't a happy camper. I think you'd be unhappy too if someone was always trying to spear and kill you for no reason outside of wanting some of the oil in my nose. Heck, just mine your own teenagers nose. There's enough oil there to fuel an entire house for a year.
For more stories about White, click here.
