So: snow. Lots of it.

So: snow. Lots of it. Like, all of winter all at once within a 24-hour period. It’s supposed to be in the 50s later this week, so maybe we can just start spring right up next week. They are saying this is the biggest blizzard New York has ever seen, but I’m having trouble believing it was worse than the one that pummeled us the night of our engagement party. I have very distinct memories of 6 foot snow drifts and battling stiff winds, where this one just seemed to dump straight down. I guess wind doesn’t count for much when determining “biggest” (though it should). There’s also the small matter that we were out and about during that last snow storm, while we watched this one unfold from the toasty inside of the apartment. It started spitting on Saturday evening, but we were in complete denial about how much snow was to come. It was enough precipitation to make us feel like staying home, but not enough to keep away four of our good friends from agreeing to come over for an impromptu party.

Houseguest Jennie and I braved the first flurries to pick up a ton of Mexican food makings, which we prepared and laid out as a buffet feast for everyone who came over. We listened to good music, watched the Olympics on mute, played a kick ass couple rounds of Apples to Apples, and even toasted up some s’mores on our indoor kit. I don’t know if anything cozier ever existed.

Of course, we were quite surprised to wake up to our entire backyard filled to the windowsills with snow. I know that people are supposed to enjoy playing in the snow. Normal people like to get a little chilly and throw snowballs and make impromptu sleds. But honestly, I kinda like to drink tea from the inside. I don’t know what happened. I blame it on the winter backpacking trip I took in college where I was cold and wet most of the time. Even when I wasn’t cold I was still a little cold, and I was always still damp. I remember very clearly standing there in my snowshoes, wind blowing everywhere, and trying to open a frozen zipper on my pack to retrieve some trail mix. I remember thinking, “Liz: this is the most awful thing ever. You are miserable. You are cold. You hate this with every bone in your body. Do not let this memory fade to a pleasant general memory and agree to go on another winter backpacking trip ever again.” And I haven’t. But I think some wires crossed over and made me more sensitive to winter in general.

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