*Ned Stark Voice* Winter is here, Motherfuckers!

I've made a terrible mistake. As I type this, it's ZERO degrees outside and I'm layered in a sweater, jacket, leggings, beanie, hiking socks and slippers, while also buried under two blankets - It's a very erotic look if you're into the "Hobo Woman living under a bridge who makes garbage soup over a busted old oil drum" aesthetic. When I woke up this morning it was -7 degrees. NEGATIVE SEVEN. That's not even a real temperature. Thats something Satan made up to force us all to feel terrible. And this is on top of the foot and a half of snow that is still out there from last week's snowstorm, mind you. Don't get me wrong, its incredibly pretty outside. Nay, gorgeous. But how do you exist in these conditions?? Now that I've been here for a bit, I'm starting to think the only way people get through the cold months is to be completely sauced all the time and sugared-up on maple syrup.

I moved here wanting snow - and that part has been lovely. Snow is magical. But the cold is a liiiittle much, my man. It's aggressive. A few months ago, I had a friend who grew up in New England give me some pointers on winter: "get good snow boots, winter tires, drink a lot, find another warm body, don't let your dogs get lost in a snow drift", the usual shit. He said, if I did all those things, I'd be able to "Winter Well". I'm about three weeks into a proper winter and let me tell you, even if I *could* Winter Well? I don't think I want to, ya know? The weird thing is, I can handle certain things on their own. I drive to Burlington every day to train and its cold as fuck in workout clothes - but I suck it up. I shoveled my entire driveway after a decent snowstorm and it really, really sucked, but I did it! Of course, I almost started adoption paperwork so I could get a child of "shoveling age" to come on as my little worker, but that seemed problematic for many, many reasons. I think asking for a brawny child with biceps is a good way to get arrested, so I scrapped that idea and doubled down on the shoveling. I finally feel confident in driving my car up/down the incredibly steep hill that leads to my house in ice and snow. After an experience that can best be described as the plot from COOL RUNNINGS 3: JEEP LUGE, I was able to figure out how to properly use the 4 wheel drive. So that's something! And, I can even handle that it gets dark, and I don't mean, like dusk-dark, I mean pitch fucking black, by 4:15pm every single day. It's intense. And any of those things on their own are somewhat tolerable, but put them together, then sprinkle in my being a wee bit isolated on top like a sad little garnish, and it makes this living situation feel overwhelming.

Just thinkin' bout all the mistakes I've made.

I'll admit, its probably just the isolation that is making this feel so suffocating. Though I pride myself on my ability to do things solo, honestly, it's really not that easy or enjoyable to ride solo all the time. And oddly, it's made even worse when you're in a place that looks like a fucking town from a Hallmark Christmas movie, and all you want to do is snuggle with another warm body while you watch the snow fall outside the window. And that's not my reality (see VERMONT TINDER). And just as an aside, really fuck those Hallmark Christmas movies for being giant piles of saccharine, shiny toothed drivel, that suck you in and make you wonder if you too should try and save the local Christmas tree stand from the big city corporation, and in the process find that Christmas lives inside of all of us, while also falling for the cable knit cutie with the heart of gold? Assholes.

It also doesn't help that I'm not exactly used to frigid conditions. I like cold weather - but cold being in the 20's and 30's - anything in the teens and below is new territory for me. I was raised in Texas, lived in LA for a decade, then Atlanta and it wasn't until I moved to New York that I actually witnessed, admittedly mild, East Coast Winters. Compared to last year at this time, I feel I'm Dr. Zhivago at his Ice Palace with Laura. Only I'm not with Laura, I'm just chilling in a fucking Ice Palace solo, baby. And the part that really irks me is that I can't even go on my hikes that I've been used to doing in the mornings after I train in Burlington. The pattern has been, drive to train in the morning and then wander into the woods like Hilary Clinton after the election. Those walks have been the one thing that's cleared my head in a way that feels palpable. Don't get me wrong, its not for lack of trying to hike, but many of the paths have been closed by the state and/or the parking lots to the trails are inaccessible due to piled up snow from the plows. If I'm being honest, this is probably for the best as far as my own mortality is concerned. There's no way I have the skillset or wherewithal to survive too long in a snowdrift and between that and the Moose hunters, the odds aren't in my favor. So this is definitely the Universe's way of saving me from myself. I get that. But it doesn't take away from the fact I'm going stir crazy. The lack of aimlessly trudging around and just thinking is really doing a number on me - there's only so much I can handle of myself, crafting, reading and writing and right now I'm dealing with A LOT of Morgan. Which reminds me, I really need to apologize to anyone who has had to deal with that much of me in the past - its heavy. I'm sorry for not seeing it until now -  I owe you all a drink &/or care package. 

I drove down to New York a few days ago to attend a holiday party that also doubled as an excuse to see former colleagues who worked with me during my tenure with a person we now understand to be a very, very bad man. It was cathartic and admittedly weird, but ultimately a good decision. I spent a few days with friends and coworkers who had been in the shit with me. I stayed in an incredibly hip hotel and took very, very hot baths while drinking martinis, and spent more time than I'm comfortable admitting, lounging about in a hotel robe like I was the Queen of fucking Sheba. I remember getting in the car to drive back up to Vermont, and I really thought I was prepared to go back to the DEFCON LEVEL 10 QUAINT I had been trying to get comfortable with over these past few months. I got a coffee to stave off the hangover, popped on some "Murder Podcasts" and settled into the six hour drive. I even felt relief crossing over border into Vermont! For a split second, I thought, "oh, I'm almost home"....and then the sky turned to midnight because it was 4pm and thats what happens in New England, and I almost immediately encountered white-out conditions due to snowstorm that lasted for almost an hour and a half. Pure white knuckle driving in Moose crossing territory in pitch black night. And it was at that point, that if it hadn't been so fucking cold outside, I would have just kept driving until I hit Lake Champlain - and I would have driven straight into the lake and called it a life. But, it was around 10 degrees outside and the lake is FUCKING FROZEN. So instead I made it home, opened the door, walked straight up to my room, and went directly to sleep.

I'm not sure what the solution to this is other than developing a debilitating whisky addiction/becoming a very good pond-hockey player/taking enough melatonin to allow me hibernation through April....but I'm scrappy and I'm sure I'll figure something out before I turn into Jack Nicholson in The Shining. And honestly, I'm kinda jealous of Jack. Sure he went insane, but at least he had his family and that tub-lady to make-out with and the evil ghost to chat with over drinks in the lounge. I mean, if I'm being honest, his social life was leaps and bounds above mine at this point. Which is incredible bullshit. Now, if you'll excuse me. I have to go shovel my driveway again and scream curses into the bitter Vermont wind.