Look at this forecast! There's a 60% chance of snow today, and a NINETY percent chance of snow on Friday. Let me put it to you
I know; I know. Some of you hate snow. Some of you hate me for for not hating snow. If it makes you feel any better, I haven't always loved snow.
As a child, I hated being cold and wet, and in the sixties, there was no Goretex; there were no waterproof, insulated snow boots, at least not at our house. I hated when Mom made me stuff my feet into plastic bread bags before cramming my feet into those cheap, plastic snow boots with the elastic/button closure. It seems I always came back in with frozen, wet feet anyway; I didn't really see the point.
When I ended up going to college in Utah in the eighties, I dreaded walking to class in the snow. Utah doesn't do snow days. Oh, there is plenty of the white stuff there, they just don't cancel school when it snows, whether there is a skiff or three feet of it. The show must go on for school kids and college kids. And thanks to the snow plows from the Utah Department of Transportation, it does.
I finally made peace with the snow around 1983, when I was introduced to cross-country skiing, and Goretex, and insulated boots, coats, and gloves. What a difference the right gear can make in an attitude. I had so much fun in the snow, I totally forgot how uncomfortable winter used to feel.
Having children made me love snowy days even more. I know; there's the bundling, and the de-bundling, and the hanging all the wet clothes up to dry, and the tracking in, and all that. But there is so much more good stuff to enjoy with littles: sledding, and snowballs, and snowmen, and when the wet mittens are hanging to dry, there's the hot cocoa.
About a decade ago, my kids and I kicked up our winter activity level a notch by discovering the fun to be had at the ski resorts. Dylan was snowboarding, and I took SKIING LESSONS with my younger two at Brian Head. While Sierra seemed to be a natural, and the other skiers in our class called her Suzy Chapstick, she never got bitten by the downhill bug. But Bridger and I loved it. He went on to become a snowboarder, and I eventually attained (beginning) intermediate status as a skier.
About a decade ago, my kids and I kicked up our winter activity level a notch by discovering the fun to be had at the ski resorts. Dylan was snowboarding, and I took SKIING LESSONS with my younger two at Brian Head. While Sierra seemed to be a natural, and the other skiers in our class called her Suzy Chapstick, she never got bitten by the downhill bug. But Bridger and I loved it. He went on to become a snowboarder, and I eventually attained (beginning) intermediate status as a skier.
When I talk to Chuck about those days, I can't help but get teary. I miss skiing so much.
Chuck understands my love of snow, and all things winter, and planned an anniversary getaway to Lake Geneva in Wisconsin this last weekend. We returned to the Mill Creek Inn, the place of our honeymoon. There was snow in the forecast, so I kept my fingers crossed all day Saturday.
 |
| Photo credit: Mill Creek Hotel |
Friday night we recalled our favorite memories, the remarkable moments of our first year together. We set an intention to have many more remarkable moments this second year, and even though we know it will be challenge, we will try to make 2016 even better than last year.
The weekend was everything we had wanted it to be: relaxing and romantic. Saturday afternoon, we had declared it a "pajama day," which in Bennorth vernacular means we would retire for the day to our room, and would lounge about in our comfiest clothes, and just be lazy. Our plan was going swimmingly until about 4 P.M., when I saw the snow falling outside our window.
"I know we declared it a pajama day, but would you be willing to make this a REMARKABLE day, and go with me for a walk in the snow?" I asked my husband who was just finishing the last bite of his chicken parmesan in our kitchenette.
"I know we declared it a pajama day, but would you be willing to make this a REMARKABLE day, and go with me for a walk in the snow?" I asked my husband who was just finishing the last bite of his chicken parmesan in our kitchenette.
My husband is the trouperiest! Without a moment's hesitation, he was on board with the change in plans. We bundled up, and headed out into the swirling flakes. Our mittened hands were clasped together as we tromped through the snow around the shore of Lake Geneva. We took selfies, and laughed, and talked. Kissing my husband in the falling flakes; it just doesn't get much better than that.
All of my anniversary weekend dreams came true: we had a relaxing, romantic getaway, and it snowed! Our weekend was great; the snow made it even better.
Call me crazy, but I think a good winter has lots of snow. Here's hoping the forecast for Chicagoland builds some momentum as we head toward the weekend!
If you don't HATE snow or skiing, or perhaps you just enjoy the misadventures of klutzes in the snow, you might enjoy some of these stories from the archives:
No comments:
Post a Comment
Thank you so much for stopping by Randomocity. Like most writers, I enjoy interacting with the wonderful people who read what I have to say, so please, if you would like to leave a "blogment," I would love to hear from you!