SNOOOW!

Snow day! It’s a snow day!

Usually, as far as I am concerned, there is absolutely no point to the winter weather. It’s cold, it’s rainy and it’s miserable. The weather where Gareth and I live is pretty bi-polar. It’s pouring slush one day, and the next day it’s bikini time. The only difference between winter and summer is that winter is colder. This can be nice and cozy; for about a week. Then it’s wet. It’s wet, it’s freezing, and the wood stove only heats one room in the house.

But last weekend brought with it that rare occurrence that makes all of the ass-freezing, bulky coat-wearing, and wetness worthwhile.

Behold, sunny California where we call home:

 Pass the tequila

Sometimes it helps to live at the foot of a mountain, I suppose. Though we are in constant danger of accidentally running over BigFoot.

Our friend, BT, lives farther up the mountain then we do, so we piled into her parent’s little four wheel drive truck and headed on up. This sounds a lot more impressive when you realize that this was three full grown early twenty something’s shoveled into a space smaller than my writing desk with these two monsters climbing all over us the entire way up the road.

Luckily, it was a short trip. Made even shorter by the fact that we eventually had to tumble out of the car and walk the rest of the way while Bt’s dad put chains on the truck.

Onward!

So what’s the first thing we do when we get to the house? Settle in?Start a fire? Recover from our long, ten minute trek? No…

We get into a sword fight with icicles.

Behold, an epic battle to the death between life-long friends! Have the medic standby! Designate your seconds! Cue the Star Trek fight music!

Actually, they were pretty crappy swords considering that they broke in half every time you hit them. Which is a good thing, because I was second to both of them and in the event of both of their deaths, I would have to battle and then defeat myself, which would have been confusing and messy.

At least they looked pretty

We romped around for a bit after, throwing a few snowballs, making a few quick snow sculptures, etc. Then I thought it would be a good idea to make a snow angel. The snow was so powdery; it seemed like a perfect idea. I was wrong. I flumped down in the snow, ready to create the imprint of my fallen angel, when my coat road up, causing my bare back to become acquainted with the snow in a way it never should have.
After flaying on my back for a few seconds, I managed to scramble to my feet. Ironically enough, the imprint I left actually looked like an angel. I wonder if that’s how the first snow angel was created, by flaying in distress from the cold snow.

Eventually, we uncovered Bt’s old sled. And that’s when the real fun started. That’s when we created the sled run that most children dream about creating, and which I have decided to name The Icy Mountain Hellhound Chute of Death and Molestation. 

Named such for two reasons; one: because every time we went down it, this happened:

“Son of a biiiiiitch!”

And two: well, the molestation part only applies to me. I don’t know if it’s because at high velocities I tend to yip like a coyote, or because I am just that attractive, but every single time I got to the bottom of that sled run, Zed would jump me.

RAPE! RAPE!

I had a few awkward moments trying to get up and cockblock him at the same time. Gareth was very unsympathetic to my plight. I quote: “At least you got the honor of a dog trying to have sex with you. I just got chewed on by Duke.”

Pooor Gare-bear.

And that’s not the only shenanigans those two pups got up to. See this wonderful snowman I made?

It was a wonderful little snowman-fox-thing. It was the best little snowman-fox-thing ever! It was going to grow up and become President of The Land of Little Snowman-Fox-Things. We even colored it green, to represent that country’s national colors.

Duke ate it.

And then Bt threw it’s corpse at him. And missed.

So we got soaking wet, went inside, and repeated until only carrot cake and hot cider could revive our poor exhausted bones. Around four we piled into the truck again. BT and Gareth thought it would be a good idea to ride back to the bottom of the mountain in the truck bed. This is just shows how magic Gareth is, because by the time we stopped, BT was covered in the snow fallen from the trees, and Gareth had not a scrape on him.

Now my ass and neck are sore and I am so tired that I’m going to bed three hours early.

But it was so very worth it.

Also, there were yaks.