forced to be cozy (December 09)

This Christmas, the usual family celebration was forced into submission. In my 23 years, I had never seen snow like this. To an extreme-winter-weather-lover like me, waking up the day after Christmas was like waking up the morning of Christmas: snow everywhere, white, blinding, deep. It confined the four of us to the family cabin the Spearfish Canyon, pulling multiple shoveling stints and hours jumping in the snow like kids.

My dad takes a strange pleasure in shoveling. Growing up, our house was without a snowblower. Instead, Dad fought the constant Wyoming snow only with shovel - and our driveway is NOT short, by any means. After tackling our property and its accompanying sidewalk, Dad moved on to the neighbor's, up and down the street, shovel scraping the sidewalk under the snow. Some still winter nights, all I could hear outside was that repetitive, hollow sound of plastic on concrete. He took pleasure in the fight. The rest of us joined him when needed, but didn't mind warming the couch instead.

This particular December, the snow brought a welcome pause for us. Plows weren't able to clear highways until the night of December 26, so the four of us couldn't scatter. Instead, we ate delicious meals previously intended for visitors; watched "Home Alone" and "Home Alone 2: Lost in New York" twice each, and "Planes, Trains and Automobiles" once; read, lounged, talked, and looked at hilarious old photo albums.

My family has spent less time together now that we're spread across the country, but for these two days, our little fortress in the 5-foot drifts kept us from outside distractions. I think it could be the best holiday in recent memory.