The Weather Outside is Frightful

Unless you live in a cave, and don't have cable television, you've probably experienced, seen, or heard how much snow we have in Utah right now. I shouldn't complain about it. Afterall, all of those righteous people in Santa Clara, Utah have been praying for "moisture" for decades. I shouldn't complain about other's prayers being answered. But I'm gonna complain. It's so cold here that my fingers and toes are in a perpetual state of popsicle-ness. I have to wear my ugly pink Ugg boots (jealous?) because honestly, this is the only acceptable time to wear such a thing. But I'm not a tucker. I cannot allow myself to tuck my pants into my Ugg boots, pink ones nonetheless, because I have flashbacks to the early 90s when pegged jeans were in style. I hated the early 90s.

Now I'm going to complain about ice. The parking lot and sidewalks at the condo are just one big, continuous ice trail. I'm going to start renting skates and charging admission. I personally have slipped 7 times in the last 4 days. And to make things worse, a visitor to our house slipped and hurt his fanny. I'm going to go to the HOA and refuse to pay the fees until they get off their lazy bums and do what we pay them for! When the residents themselves have to borrow snow blowers and shovels from other neighbors, that's a bad situation.

Now that I'm done complaining, I'll tell you about some fun things. I did donuts for the first time last Friday night. Rob insisted that I learn how to do them and also how to handle my car in the snow. I don't see what the big whoop is. I don't think I'll be doing donuts any time soon. It was fun to see how excited Rob got about the whole process. He told me that earlier that day on his way home from work, he stopped in a church parking lot and did some of his own. Must be a guy thing.

Last night we drove through the neighborhood passing out our Christmas goodies. My Hyundai Sonata, Uncle Jesse is his name, handles very well in the snow. Every time we'd make it over a big pile of snow or up a steep driveway, I'd yell "Uncle Jesse!" Yeah, it's dorky, I know. Anyway, we drove up to one of the houses we were bringing goodies to, and the teenage boy in the family was packing the front door with snow. I thought to myself, 'that Wilcox boy seems pretty bright, why is he packing his own front door?' I made it a point to ask Rob later that night if the Wilcox boy was "all there."

Me: Why was the Wilcox boy packing his own front door with snow?
Rob: Because it's fun.
Me: Well, but isn't it more fun to do it to someone else?
Rob: Why would it be more fun doing it to someone else?
Me: Because then you don't have to clean it up.
Rob: Um, I guess not.
Me: I mean, why would you doorbell ditch your own house?
Rob: What?
Me: Isn't that what you do? You pack a front door with snow, ring the doorbell, run away, and when the front door is opened all the snow falls in?
Rob: No! You pack the door and when you open it the wall is still there and you run through and bust it down. We did it to our door all the time when I was a kid.
Me: Oh, I guess that makes sense.

I just don't get a lot of the snow stuff. Donuts? Snow packing? Skiing?

I am excited to have my first "White Christmas" ever. It's kind of romantical.