STRANGER THAN FICTION: PROMISE OF SNOW SENDS FLORIDIANS INTO TIZZY

They looked so sad, their little faces pressed against the window.

Christmas in Florida just isn't the same.

Oh, everyone tries to be festive: They wrap lights around the bases of palm trees, send holiday greeting cards with pictures of ice-skating children and even use that canned snow on their windows. But let's face it: Norman Rockwell didn't sell many beach scenes in December.

It's funny how people who moved here to get away from northern winters try to embrace them around the holidays.

Over the weekend, Pensacolians were abuzz with the news that a snow-sleet mixture was on the way. The temperature only got up to 48 degrees on Sunday, so everyone had high hopes. The Other Half, who gets a little misty-eyed every time his mother e-mails to say it snowed in Missouri, kept looking out the window expectantly. While I'm enjoying my ice-scraper-free holiday season, he's become one of THEM.

"It's just not the same without a little snow," he whined.

Not to say my husband is immature, but he's probably afraid Santa's sleigh won't be able to operate without a little of the white stuff on the ground. I've told him Santa uses a convertible in Florida, but he's getting to that suspicious age where he asks a lot of questions. He may not even believe in Santa at all by Christmas 1998.

They're so much cuter when they're little.

It was kind of pitiful down here last year. On Dec. 18 -- my birthday, by the way -- less than an inch of snow fell on parts of the Florida Panhandle. On Dec. 19, the local newspaper ran a front-page photo of a man who had gathered all the snow from his yard, his neighbors' yards and probably a large part of Escambia County to build a 2-foot-high snowman. I wanted to cry for him.

In last Monday's newspaper, an article about the recent weather began: "If you're dreaming of a white Christmas, you'd better go back to sleep." It was almost too cruel.

I'm not sure why Mr. Half and his ilk miss snow. Doesn't he remember the Great Cape Girardeau Snow Of 1996 Or Early 1997, I'm Not Exactly Sure But I Know It Happened? There were so many car wrecks that the local police had to quit working them unless there were injuries. When the victims called the police station, they were told to exchange insurance information and go on their merry ways.

Even after a morning of sitting at the Southeast Missourian listening to the scanner, a few of us decided to go out for Chinese food. What's a snowstorm without kung pao chicken?

We didn't have any trouble getting to the restaurant, but I almost couldn't get up Independence Street on the way back. Funny, after four people ate their weight in fried rice and egg rolls, you'd think the car would have a little more traction.

These days, I'm embracing the Florida way of celebrating holidays. I sent out Pensacola Beach postcards in the place of Christmas cards, decorated the rubber tree on our porch and threw away my ice scraper. Next weekend I'm burning my recordings of "White Christmas," "Let it Snow" and "Jingle Bells."

But "Walkin' 'Round In Women's Underwear," set to the tune of "Winter Wonderland," definitely stays. It cracks me up.

Other Random Thoughts:

If you wonder who's the boss in your house -- you or your cats --think about the process of cleaning the litter box.

Actually, when I have to undertake that disgusting task, I think: "Just how much joy am I getting out of these cats, really?" But don't worry, Romy and Bosco. Your place in our home is secure if you take to this brilliant new device I saw in the pet store. It's supposed to train cats to use the toilet. I can't wait.

And for those of you who say white men can't jump, I direct your attention to Mr. Half, who bought new athletic shoes Monday. He came home from the store wearing them.

"Look," he said. "These really do make you jump higher!"

I turned around just in time to see him bash his head against the ceiling. Granted, we only have 7-foot-high ceilings and he's only a foot shorter than that, but I'm proud of him.

~Heidi Nieland is a former member of the Southeast Missourian news staff who lives in Pensacola, Fla.