Winter Wonderland

I find it hard to believe that it could get any more beautiful outside than it is right now. And I am not even a winter girl.

Thanks to my favorite great uncle (a.k.a. my grandfather's sister's husband's sister's husband's sister's husband thrice removed) who penned this fabulous song 30 years before I was born, I am facing unafraid, the plans that I made, walking in a winter wonderland.

When it snows, ain't it thrilling,
Though your nose gets a chilling
We'll frolic and play, the Eskimo way,
Walking in a winter wonderland

Love and Other Things

Over the weekend, I discovered that:

1. A single martini feels much stronger when you subsequently have to navigate an airport. But cocktails with girlfriends trump more rational decisions any day.
2. JetBlue still doesn't have its act together. Their computer system somehow assigned more than one person per seat on our 10:40 p.m. flight to the ROC so they gave up and shouted to the boarding passengers "ignore your seat assignment and just grab the first seat that's open." Unable to bear the thought of a night in Queens, lil' ole alcohol-bolstered me forged ahead taking no prisoners. To quote Ted Nugent, it was a free-for-all. And I won. (Clasped hands raised in trophy pose.)
3. Playgrounds are very, very slippery when covered with snow. Dangerous yet heaps o' fun. Note to my vast readership of playground equipment developers: you should conduct in situ research during winter conditions to avoid lawsuits. Seriously. Even the wood chips underfoot were frozen. 
4. Snow covered slides will launch you (or in this case, me) into the air like a human cannonball.
5. Landing on your back is more palatable when dressed like Nanook of the North.
6. Lastly, ten year old boys have girlfriends. And they kiss. And use the word "love." They also share these details openly with their friend's mom (i.e., me) over hot soup. 

Safe but Not Sound

Winter mornings in Rochester consist of driving along the highway, steering your car quickly around large clumps of hardened snow that the semi in front of you just deposited on the road, and passing car after car after car that somehow ended up in a ditch on the side of the road or backwards/upside-down in the median. Police cars lit up. Tow trucks everywhere.

But that doesn't slow us down. Nope. It doesn't matter that the speed limit is 65, the roads are covered in black ice, 40 mile per hour howling winds are blowing snow across your windscreen and there's a hazardous weather outlook in place: you still need to drive as fast as possible, pass, cut people off and slam on your breaks when some idiot in front of you is doing the speed limit. No need to put down the cell phone. Multitasking is cool.

Come on people, you're going to make me late for that critical meeting that, this time next week, I'll have forgotten all about.

As I approached my office, the car in front of me was doing 25 in a 40 mph zone. Hey, what's with the caution? Can't see the road through the sleet? Then I noticed the out-of-state plates and I wondered what it must be like for someone unaccustomed to extreme driving to be thrown into the lunacy here. Would it be like lacing up my ice skates and trying to compete in an Olympic speed skating event? No, because at least they're all headed in the same direction.

Maybe I would understand more clearly if I was battling asteroids from a single passenger spacecraft. Or if I was suddenly thrown, without warning, into a Rugby game, say the Barbarians vs. New Zealand, and I had the ball.

It's all so very Norman Rockwell around here in the wintertime.

The Country Life

I seem to have a habit recently of quoting one of the hubby's musician friend's Facebook comments but yesterday he wrote (about Rochester), "The music scene is as good as ever, thanks to the die hard spirit that comes from this cold, shitty area, that everyone endures and comes to celebrate. Bring it on Old Man Winter!"

Blue collar poetry at its finest and I agree: Bring it on. Masses and masses of snow. Hot toddies in front of the fireplace.

This morning was just gorgeous. I could see for miles as I drove through the countryside. Snow was covering the trees and lightly falling from a pale blue and muted pink early morning sky. It truly felt like a dream.

So long to the city lights . . .

Norman Rockwell

Last night, the boys and I went skating at the neighbors' house across the street. It was a beautiful starry night and snowing. On their rink, under the lights, it felt like a dream.

After I took my skates off, Liz and I sat on the wooden bench, cozied up under a blanket (as it was only 16 degrees out), had a glass of wine and watched the kids play shadow tag on the ice. And I thought: It just doesn't get any better than this.

Thank you God.