I’m currently on a 9-hour train trip to NYC. It’s 6 degrees outside and snow abounds.

Amtrak is doing a decent job of keeping the train warm considering the piles of snow that have accumulated in the passageways between each car.

My seat-mate was asleep when I climbed over him to buy a cup of coffee. I’m running on 4 hours of sleep, and can’t seem to nap, so caffeine seemed like a good idea.

We are in the mountains outside of Altoona, PA, and the snow is glistening in the morning sun. Cliche, but true.

I loved snow as a child and I have since nurtured a bit of a distain for it. Every year, around March, I wonder if Andy and I should relocate to an area of the world that has milder winters. However, as wonderful as that sounds, I have finally decided that I actually might miss the winter if I didn’t experience it.

Perhaps, I wouldn’t miss the close to zero temperatures, but this gleaming white stuff that shuts down schools and quickly turns people into bad drivers, is a bit romantic.

Even before it turns grey on the streets of NYC, the white powder of winter lifts my spirits. Even if just a little bit.

So cheers to you, you beautiful, cold, icy blanket of wonderful. But as for you, you 6 degrees of arctic bullshit, you can f*ck off.