If there's one phrase I can consistently recall my Dad saying every year since 1983 it is, "I hate this weather." Often a word not found in the Bible would accompany the phrase.

And because Dad hates the Pacific Northwest weather and suffers from probably every weather-related syndrome ever documented, he often pushed for the family to move to some hot destination, usually Arizona, sometime during the cold months every year. We nearly made the move my sophomore year of high school.

Alas, Dad's dream is realized today as he makes the long drive to Scottsdale, Ariz. He has accepted a director of coaching position at a premier soccer club there.

I have lost proximity to Dad, but have gained a new vacation destination whenever I decide, "I hate this $&!@%* weather."