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Folks, it's a frosty -1 degrees with the wind chill. Or is it -1 degree (singular), since there aren't multiple degrees to be found? Regardless, it's freaking cold. And this is our street right now, covered in a fine layer of white.
The internet here at our house has been touch-and-go since mid December, hence why my 12 Days of Christmas series ended almost before it began. Oh well. It's fixed now, the new year is here, and we're moving on.
This is the part where I announce a resolution to write more in 2012. Or is it?
In 2008, I wrote 55 posts. In 2011, only 24. In my own defense, I also lived by myself back then. I probably spent more time in front of my computer, whereas now I spend more time curled up in front of the TV with Ryan. But can you blame me? It's cold, and he's warm (and cute).
Anyway. I also blog less these days because I think too hard about trying to write something great instead of just writing... whatever. Random shit. Like this—check out this necklace I bought last weekend. I thought it was super cute and then halfway through the day I realized I kind of looked like Mr. T.
Yep. There it is. 2012. Boom.
One premature turn this evening landed me in front of these tracks, red light blinking like Rudolph's nose through the snow, but no train in sight.
I stopped and waited. Then the train came clacking along... and along... and along. Long enough for me to pause, take a photo, a few deep breaths, and to remember the few beautiful little things I can appreciate about winter in Indiana.
Zero Holding, by Robyn Sarah
I grow to like the bare trees and the snow, the bones and fur of winter. Even the greyness of the nunneries, they are so grey, walled all around with grey stones — and the snow piled up on ledges of wall and sill, those grey planes for holding snow: this is how it will be, months now, all so still, sunk in itself, only the cold alive, vibrant, like a wire — and all the busy chimneys — their ghost-breath, a rumour of lives warmed within, rising, rising, and blowing away.
Snow today. Lots of it, at least by my standards. But not enough to cancel school, therefore, not enough for me to stay off the road. So the little two-wheel drive Volvo fishtailed its way around every corner of the morning commute, clearly freaking out as much as its driver.
But the real fun arrived on my way home from work. That's when I got stuck — in my own driveway, at bottom of the smallest hill you've ever seen. I can't even call it a hill actually, it's more like a tiny three foot slope. By the time I trudged up to the garage for a shovel and back, my neighbor Jerry was waiting at the bottom.
"You stuck?"
Then another neighbor from across the street, Tony, arrived with his snow blower. And then our next-door neighbor Susan walked over.
Tony cleared out the driveway while Jerry and I shoveled the sidewalks. Susan's golden retriever Abby, who apparently loves the snow, frolicked around the yard like the cutest damn thing I've ever seen. And just like that, a very crappy situation was made infinitely better thanks to a few good neighbors.
Random Thing #25
Friends, we have reached the end: the last random thing about me, at least for now.
For the next five days, I will freeze my ass off, and I will complain that I can't feel my feet or fingers — and I will crave boiled peanuts, grits and sweet tea for the sole reason that they are unavailable — but I will love every second of it. I'm flying to Boston tonight, and Ryan and I are going skiing in New Hampshire over the weekend. We're staying at the Colonel Spencer Inn, in Campton (hometown of my heart, population 2,900, which I've written about before).
I grew up skiing, but last February was the first time in 10 years that I attempted it. I started out shaky, but 30 minutes later I was dragging poor Ryan (who had only been once before) to the top of the mountain.
It's a massive adrenaline rush, but at the same time it can be amazingly peaceful. There is something about being at the top of a mountain covered in snow — the complete stillness and silence of it — that just makes you think... this is Winter as God intended.
Be back in March! Until then, I'll leave you with a few pictures of last year's trip: our B&B, a frozen tree branch, ski lifts at Tenney Mt., me in front of 
our old house.
Folks, it's a frosty -1 degrees with the wind chill. Or is it -1 degree (singular), since there aren't multiple degrees to be found? Regardless, it's freaking cold. And this is our street right now, covered in a fine layer of white.
