My best friend lives about 3 streets away from my parents. I think the only living situation that could possibly be more awesome would be if all my favorite people in the world decided to move to the mission field and all live together.

I think this post will be more fun if you imagine Garrison Keillor reading it out loud, PHC style.

Yesterday the temperature reached a high of 41* in Berrien Springs. The snow on the ground seemed like it wanted to rise up in celebration of the warmer weather, covering the landscape in a fuzzy white haze. Michigan looked like God had opened it up in photoshop and turned it into a watermark, draining it of color and distinct edges.

It even rained yesterday. I've been faithfully carrying my umbrella around in my backpack for weeks, even though the only precipitation we've had since October has been various forms of snow. As evening came, the temperatures dropped to the below freezing zone and the rain resumed its solid state. Sidewalks turned into long lanes of ice, causing young and old alike to adopt the nursing home shuffle, that cautious way of walking which anticipates the pain of the fall.

I had been spoiled by a day of warm weather, so I didn't leave much time to clear off my car this morning. It did appear to have a bit of snow on the windshield, but I thought I'd turn it on and warm it up while I brushed off the windows. I put my key into the lock and tried to open the door. Nothing. My car was frozen shut.

'93 Toyota Camrys are known for lousy door handles. If you find these cars in a junk yard, the door handles have always been stripped off. When I bought my car, the handle on the driver's side had been snapped off. Every time I opened the door, I had to pry it open with the little stub that remained. I lived with this for several months before a family friend found a way to fix the handle without paying half of what the car was worth. I waited a long time for that handle, mismatched though it may be, and I don't want it to break off. Ever.

So when I found the driver's door was frozen shut, I didn't try to force it. Instead, I tried to force the back seat handle. Who cares if it gets broken? After much effort, I eventually succeeded in wrenching the back seat door open. I turned on the car from the backseat and grabbed my ice scraper. No need for a snow broom today!

My car was parked right outside my roommate's window. She often comments that she is awakened in the morning by people scraping their windows across the parking lot. This morning, I was sure that I was the one waking up my roommate. This was no delicate Tennessee frost. Underneath that pretty topcoat of snow was a serious layer of ice. The parking lot seemed to echo with the scratch of my scraper skittering across the top of the ice. Usually I like station wagons, but on days like today, I wish I drove a car with a few less windows.

After a full upper-body workout, I finally had all the windows cleared. I thought that by now, the car would have warmed up and the door would be unfrozen. No luck. So I got in the back seat again and crawled up to the front, bumping my car horn in the process. Sorry, Jamie. Finally ready to go, I inched onto the glassy parking lot and cautiously drove to school.

A few summers ago, I worked in the housing department in the basement of Thatcher South. They were remodeling, and sometimes I would be the only person in the entire building. On one such occasion, Campus Safety changed all the door access while I was still inside. My ID card was instantly useless. When I tried to leave, I discovered I was trapped in the hallway, unable to get back into my office and unable to get out of the dorm. While I knew in my mind that I had a cell phone and could call Campus Safety to come rescue me, I felt sudden clausterphobia. Panic is not rational.

Today when I got to school, I thought that by now - for sure - my car door would be unfrozen. But when I tried to open it (from the inside this time), and it wouldn't budge, I again felt extreme clausterphobia. Every rational fact was blocked from my conciousness. I was trapped, and the only thought in my panicking mind was a screaming question.

What if?

Today I walked a mile to school in the snow. I’d like to say it was uphill both ways, but I live in Michigan.

It turns out the alternator in my car is dead. I needed a jump start to get me to and from Sarah’s house in Wisconsin for Thanksgiving. Now my poor station wagon is sitting forlornly in its parking space, collecting snow, waiting for me to have some free time to take it to the mechanic to give it new life.

In Phonetics & Phonology today, the girl who sits next to me (who is also my neighbor) asked me if she could ride to school with me tomorrow. When she was scraping the ice off her windshield this morning, it collapsed. Apparently that happens sometimes. I told her I’d love a walking companion.

I’m learning all kinds of new things about winter. Wal-marts in Michigan sell something called a “snow broom.” When I first saw them, I had no idea why someone would buy one. To clear ice off a window, you need a hard edge to scrape with, not a bunch of soft bristles. I quickly recognized my ignorance when I tried to clear a foot of snow off my car with my 10-inch ice scraper. I need to buy a snow broom.

I have bought the following items of clothing since I moved to Michigan: 4 pairs of long johns, 1 coat, 1 pair of gloves, 1 pair of boots, 1 coat, 2 hats, and 6 scarves. (And a cool shirt that Zach McDonald designed, but that doesn’t have anything to do with a blog about snow.)

Sometimes when I get to school in the morning, I'm saluted by rows of parked cars with their windshield wipers sticking straight out. I’m still not exactly sure why people do this – I think it has something to do with them not getting frozen to your windshield? I haven’t experienced this yet.


Andrews uses funny little green and yellow John Deere tractors to clear snow off the sidewalks. On warmer days, the tractors have a circular broom-like attachment added on the front. It looks like a giant round brush for blow-drying hair, and it just whisks all the dirty snow of the sidewalks. Some of the sidewalks, however, are heated! Imagine! When I first heard this, I thought it was just a legend. But it’s true. They purposely put the hot water pipes underneath some of the main sidewalks, and sure enough, the snow is always neatly melted off those special sidewalks! I’m still not sure exactly how it works, since I thought water was heated inside buildings…but I guess that’s why I’m not an engineer.

Jamie and I haven’t turned on our heat yet. Our apartment is hovering around 65, and it’s a little chilly. But I sort of want to see if we can last til Christmas break. Only 12 days to go!

I’m not gonna lie, I like the snow much more than I thought I would. It makes Michigan a whole lot prettier. But there is something about having a wonderful thing become commonplace. If we got this much snow in Tennessee, there would be dancing in the streets (and certainly no driving in them). Snowballs would be flying, and the ground would be littered with snow angels and lumpy snowmen. But I haven’t seen anyone playing in the snow here. Not even the neighborhood kids. I’m sure it happens sometime (I hope). But it’s like how the camp director’s kid gets bored on the blob or how Taco Bell employees get sick of 7-layer burritos. Some of the magic is gone.

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Tomorrow I’m going to make paper snowflakes. It might seem a little ridiculous when the real thing is everywhere. But I want to remember that snowflakes are beautiful. And I’m going to put on as many of my winter clothes as I can and make a snow angel and get wet snow down my neck and up my sleeves and in my boots. And my cheeks will get chapped and my nose will be runny. And winter will be magical again.