But I do have scarf pictures!
Those are kind of cozy, right? You might like to read about snow after seeing those pictures--maybe? Well, grab a cup of hot chocolate and wrap a scarf around your neck. (I just barely downed some hot chocolate and it was so yummy, especially since I had to work for it. I searched high and low for the Swiss Miss packet that I just knew we had one more of. I've learned that there's always one more M&M in those giant Costco trail mix bags; you just have to look hard enough. It was the same thing with the Swiss Miss; I looked hard and found one in the table cloth drawer. I'm serious.)
On to snow:
I've been skiing twice. My first experience was in ninth grade when my dad took me and a carload of my prissy girlfriends--all first timers--to hit the slopes. When we pulled into the resort and saw the mountain of snow from the car window, my dad was the lonely male audience to a chorus of panicked squeals.
"That's just the bunny hill, girls," my dad said with a chuckle.
Our squeals quickly escalated to dramatic shrieks when we pulled in close enough to see the actual ski mountain. We all vowed we were sticking to the bunny hill--if we were to make it that far.
I picked up skiing well enough to have a decent first experience, but the mental snapshots I have of my two friends from that day are messy. In the visual I pull up for Priscilla--the funny and dramatic one--she is laughing, her skis perma-crisscrossed and her arms flailing to pull down anyone within her reaching distance, strangers included--cute boys, definitely included. She was pretty well stuck looking like a snow angel for the day.
Mindi--my sweet ballerina friend--got her snow gear inescapably caught in the rope tow on her first ride up the hill. I helplessly watched her dangling body steadily drag up the slope. She was nearly swallowed by the pulley, but luckily the tow was shut off right before it ate her. It was a horrendous sight. I'd be shocked if she ever tried skiing again. She spent he rest of the day recovering indoors.
I once got involved in a mean snowball fight where this show-off baseball player pitched a fast one right at me. It killed! I'm sure I had puffs of cold, smoky air coming out my nose and mouth from the cold--and my ears from my anger! I was explosive, I was so mad. What kind of guy blasts a packed snowball at a girl like that? Maybe that's where the permanent blue mark on the back of my thigh came from! I've always wondered. I really think that's it! (I can pretend that's where that particular varicose vein came from, anyway.)
I went sledding once-ish at college in Rexburg, ID. While thrilling, I'm sure some guy bribed me to go with hot cocoa. It met my prediction for a dangerous and irresponsible activity--the hill we flew down was not meant for sledding. Maybe an Olympian could have handled it. I'm pretty sure I remember reading stories in The Scroll (school newspaper) about sledding catastrophes on that "hill" resulting in hospitalization.
Also in college, I went on a snowmobiling date that nearly ended me. Heath was the name of my near-murderer. He took me flying over a snow ramp he and his buddies had made. Awfully sweet of him to take dates to his death ramp, wouldn't you say? We got enough air time for me to panic and think, "Crash already!" We crashed alright, and my neck jarred my spine to a cracking tune upon collision.
My college snow dates actually did get better. When Magnet and I first met, we used to run two miles together every night. Even when Rexburg's bitter snow came and caused our nose hairs to freeze, we'd still bundle up and go for our jog. I don't how to explain this lunacy. All I can say is, it must have been love.
Since Magnet and I have been married, I've built one snowman. It was rosy-cheeked Maggie who made it enjoyable for me. She loved every minute of it. Still, if it ever snows here again, I intend to remind Magnet that it's his year for snowman duty. (PS. Maggie now has mittens, and I crocheted her a scarf for Christmas (upcoming post), but she still needs snow boots.)
I am forgetful, but that chronicles my lifetime's snow adventures. While predominantly negative experiences, I do appreciate that snow played a small roll in my love story and that snow is a great excuse to buy a new scarf. (I got three new ones for Christmas, warranted by the 18 inches of snow WA got while I was gone, I'm sure.)
My heart pitters for snow and pounds for scarves--I puffy heart scarves!