For the Love of Snow

Cheryl, one of my bestest buds in the whole world, lives in Anchorage, Alaska. She’s a gorgeous, talented, successful, smart attorney. [Here she is.] We met in line at a Brian Setzer Orchestra show outside the Warfield Theater on Market Street in San Francisco in about 1998, when SF was thriving, swing music was enjoying a comeback, and life was ring-a-ding-ding, daddyo.

Cheryl and I started as serendipitous concert buddies, then email pals, and now, real friends. Dave and I had an awesome trip to AK last December for her wedding to her longtime paramour Kirk. Alaska was totally kickass: cold and snowy with sharp, clear air that stung and refreshed. We went to the zoo and visited with the animals in the snow. We ate crab claws. We got drunk at the wedding on champagne.

Cheryl’s husband Kirk is an (in)famous bike messenger. The dude rides a winterized bike with mean ol’ spiked tires and shit IN THE SNOW. He’s the kind of smart, funny, sly guy you want to lose a few hours with in a bar, just talking about whatever. His obvious devotion and affection for Cheryl are beautiful to see.

A few days ago, he wrote this in his blog:

“Anyway right now there’s about two inches of new snow over about an inch or two of old snow and ice, more snow is falling.”


I miss the cold.

I enjoyed our summer adventures very, very much. But there’s just something about a nip in the air that lightens my step.

Today is close enough to cold to make me really happy. I had to wear a knit cap and long-sleeved shirt during my run this morning! And I was a little chilly on my walk to get a cup of tea. Heavenly!

So even though it’s only, like, 60-something outside, I’m pretending it’s like this:
and this…
The season of silly hats is almost upon us. Rejoice!

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