SNOW.

I was working diligently at my computer by the window and texting with a friend. She is waiting for the garage to finish putting the snow tires on her car. I need to do that too. She told me it's supposed to snow tomorrow.
I looked out the window, thinking, trying to do math—finances are today's Saturday morning theme.
Suddenly I realized, the sentence slowly rolling through my head like a clearing fog over the bay:
I t ' s  s n o w i n g .
A big smile spread across my face as I sat up a little straighter and tried not to welcome the flakes with a high-pitched squeal. I looked for someone to smile with. Nothing. The café is full...does no one else see this?!
Oh, wait…I am remembering now, I live in Alaska.

A really nice couple took this photo for me just now. They were so confused when I asked them to take a picture, I had to explain to them this is my first snow in Alaska. After that, they were very nice and obliging. 

"Oh..." as they smiled and winked at my innocence.

vitamin D

The no-sunlight winter is already muffling and muzzling my spirit. The last few weeks have been some of the worst. For example, at Cosco, I not only bought a "Happy Light" which I diligently sit in front of every morning and evening, letting my retinas soak in manufactured optimism, but I also bought Vitamin D chewies...chewies! I probably wont spend the extra dollars for them again, but for now, the chewy fruity really perks me up in the dark cold lonely morning.

Ski Swap Attempt #1

The annual West High Ski Swap was scheduled for Saturday from 12:00-5:00. We had done our homework and grinned optimistically—innocently—as we strode through the parking lot and into the gym where the swap was taking place. We showed up an hour after the doors had opened yet, already, the cross country ski selection had been swarmed and picked to the bone leaving little more than a pair for $275 and a pair for $10. We wandered around dejectedly until the news of another ski swap floated into our ears and put hope back into our faces.

Although the skis had been wolfed over like a pack of hyaenas on a lame wildebeest,
I did find these cheerful little skates which obligingly comforted me all the way home. 

There is a little lake on the coast of Anchorage called Westchester Lagoon. It is a 30 min walk, 17 min run, or a 9 min bike ride from our apartment. Once it ices over, the city keeps the surface groomed for ice skating and in the evenings they light little bonfires all around. I look forward to taking my skates out in the evenings among the stars, the snow, and the bundled peoples.