I tried to remember, but I said what's a flower?

...and then the snow came
we were always out shoveling
and we dropped to sleep exhausted
and we'd wake up
and it's snowing...

(Dar Williams, February, from Mortal City)

The whole city seems braced today. It's gray and windy, and depending on who you listen to, there are 8-18 inches of snow on the way. We are Minnesotans and should be able to handle this; however, we have been spoiled with little snowfall and mild temperatures and have lost our semi-arctic robustness. St. Thomas is all prepared to call off my class tomorrow; people are raiding grocery stores (we live in a large city with expensive plows and a backstock of road salt, people. this too shall pass), canceling parties, going home early, catching planes to California. OK, maybe that was just one coworker, and maybe it was a vacation he's had planned for a while.

Meanwhile, I embrace the thought of snow, in my silly Minnesotan way, the way I embrace the thought of a challenging assignment or an uphill climb on the Schwinn (though I won't be doing any uphill climbs on said Schwinn in 18 inches of white stuff). It's a good excuse to bundle in, make use of Netflix and the TV Torrents I haven't watched. It's a great reason to explore my spaetzle-making skill, for turkey-spaetzle soup. A spectacular excuse to bake bread, cookies, possibly brownies. And snuggle under big blankets. And sleep in. And drink warm cider laced with Jameson.

Bring it, old man Winter.

Karma's plot to undermine the tragically hip. Or, Mondays at work.

It's the last Monday in January, here in Minneapolis.
This means a few things:

• 2 more meager months of winter yet to survive. February is usually the worst month (at least for me), but thankfully it is jam-packed with classes, weddings, and social events. So, perhaps it will pass and leave me (relatively) unscathed. March is actually OK... snowy, but not as cold. And it stays light for a decent amount of time in the evenings. And I don't leave for work in the dark. At least not by the end of the month.
• I am sick of every sweater I own.
• Rollergirls open their league season and give me something to drink PBR and shout about in an otherwise barren landscape of ice, sensible shoes, and an irrepressible instinct to make starchy dinners.
  
• I have lost a pair of gloves and a hat so far this year.
  
• I have reviewed the seed catalogs, plotted the garden out, and done my gardening algebra. We'll order seeds on the 20th (ish) and be planting seedlings by mid-March.
• Show season starts very soon, as bands begin the onslaught of 2007 releases (have I ever mentioned my theory on the cycical nature of amazing albums?)... coming soon to a blog near you will be reviews of the Current Fakebook with Chuck Klosterman, TV on the Radio (yes, again!), Of Montreal, Ted Leo, Kaiser Chiefs and the Walkmen. Yes, and all that music goodness will happen before I can break out the flip-flops again.
• I have a sudden realization that I need to get out and take some January photography of the city before Thursday. Any suggestions about what is unique to Minneapolis in January (not including me drinking Comfort tea snuggled under an afghan working through my netflix queue. Adorable, I know... but does it make for good pictures, really?)
• I'll be working at a new job in a mere week. I'm not ready; though I am. I feel grossly underequipped in the wardrobe department to go back to working downtown.
  

Mostly unrelated:

• I was fortunate enough to snag an early copy of Arcade Fire's March release, Neon Bible. Oh Baby. Mojo has a great review; I won't bother to reiterate what he already says.
• Public Service Announcement: As much as I would like it, I am not in charge of the US Postal Service and cannot control when things get mailed/delivered/returned to me. Ongoing angst with the mail; how you haunt me.
• Angry Chicken posted a Beatrix Potter natural foods cookbook which is out of print. Dammit. Now I want one.
• I picked on Jana for consistently having Rod Stewart in her Amazon recommends... list. (Don't ask. This is the kind of insanity that only comes up at trivia.) Except now that I have opened my mouth, I have received 2 or 3 emails urging me to not miss out on the big Rod Stewart show. Whuut? Gah. It's some karmic move attempting to amp down our awesomeness factor. Hrmph.
• By the way, I refuse to link to Rod Stewart in this blog.

today's wake up call in my head was brought to you by:
We Will Become Silhouettes
The Postal Service, on Give Up (2003)