DIANE MAKAR MURPHY Suddenly, I'm walking in a wicker wonderland

The relentless march of the commercial seasons continues as a Boardman Giant Eagle used the last week in January to put up its -- brace yourselves -- white wicker furniture display.
I'm not kidding. As I rounded the Giant Eagle flower shop, passed the wine bottles and almost made it to the cracker aisle, I saw a lovely little white wicker grouping -- a charming little setting where some straw-hatted store manager might easily set a pitcher of lemonade for swimsuit-clad children.
"Jody! Buffy! Get out of that sprinkler and have some lemonade!"
Ha!
Here's a quarter; take a sled to reality.
That's NOT what I'm thinking about in January.
Last week, when I pushed my dog through the porch doorway and said through chattering teeth, "Go in the corner," I was NOT thinking about sitting on a wicker chair on that porch.
As I scraped the ice off my windshield with a chip clip, the only thing handy, I was NOT thinking, I'd love to be sitting outside on an attractive piece of wicker furniture.
Squishy shoes
As I stupidly wore tennis shoes outside and felt the snow pile into my socks, I was NOT thinking ... "Gosh, I'd love to run barefooted across the lawn, then sunbathe on a white wicker love seat!"
It was five months ago, in September, that I was ragging on Wal-Mart for displaying a singing snowman (or was it a Santa? -- my psyche has blocked it out). Now, I am not only witnessing the sale of Valentine's candy that's been on shelves for three months (yuck!), leprechauns and shamrock figurines, but summer furniture! Can the firecrackers and Roman candles be far behind?
Sure, I want to dream about warm weather, and balmy breezes, and barbecues, but what person is going to buy a white wicker porch setting in January, when even Frank Marzullo is having trouble cracking a smile?
"Yes, please, I'd like one of those settings. The lovely white wicker one. May I pick it up in, say, five or six months?"
Reminder of spring
Ironically, it was not two hours earlier that I had been to Eye Care Associates on Dutton Drive for an eye exam. It was early on a Wednesday, and my daughter was at home because school was canceled because of sleet, snow and ice. That's exactly what I had driven through to get to the ophthalmologist.
I ran in to the building, took the entire hour I was there to thaw, re-donned my coat and went to the exit. The receptionist gave me a new appointment, and I took the time waiting to groan about the weather.
"Oh geez, can you believe this? It's so cold out. The roads are icy. The snow is coming down. It's been below 10 for a week. I don't even leave my house any more."
To which the woman said gently, "Spring is right around the corner."
I guffawed. I looked her in the eyes. She was serious. She meant it. Talk about a half-full person.
I laughed again, joyfully, and repeated what she said. "Spring is right around the corner."
I walked out to the car with an enormous smile stuck on my red, frozen face. Snowflakes piled onto my shoulders, and that made me laugh even more. I rushed into my car. I kept the smile as I cranked up the defroster and looked through a haze of frost, fog and snow at the impending approach of ... spring. Ha! My car slid out of the parking lot.
I would live a lot healthier life if I could look at white wicker furniture in a store in January and attribute the same positive motivation as I did to the receptionist at Eye Care Associates -- as a beautiful optimism necessarily distributed to grumpy, cabin-bound customers.
But, I'm not THAT optimistic.
murphy@vindy.com