Change in the weather
Change in the weather
Somethin’s happening here.

— "Change in the Weather," by John Fogerty

Like everyone else, we had plans for the holidays. But ours got put on ice.

Seriously. Colorado got a stone-cold one-two punch this year — a solid, snowy smack upside the head just before Christmas, followed by an icy uppercut going into New Year’s. No need for a 10-count on this one, ref’, I ain’t getting up. Not until all these freakin’ penguins stop dancing through my head.

Normally, I’d be bitching about this (surprise, surprise). Herself and I had intended to drive south to observe the solstice in Santa Fe, then head north to Fort Collins to help my sister celebrate her 50th birthday. That is, until Storm No. 1 kicked the pins out from under our first excursion and Storm No. 2 did the job on the second.

But y’know what? All this snow we've got here is actually pretty damn’ cool.

Okay, "cold" is more accurate. But it’s cool, too. Because we didn’t really have to go to Santa Fe for any particular reason, beyond wanting to; my sister no doubt enjoyed spending her milestone birthday with her brand-new husband, sans houseguests; and we haven’t seen snow like this in what seems like forever.

True, it’s not for everyone. Some people found themselves seriously inconvenienced by the twin storms, and a few unfortunates wound up in the icebox for real after weather-related mishaps. So if Santa was late bringing you that iPod, or you’re freshly dead, please accept my sincerest apologies.

But me, I’ve been having a high old time.

I had squirreled away plenty of food and strong drink before the first blast hit, and spent one pleasant day snug in a hot kitchen, cooking up a mess of green chile, enchiladas, beans and rice for some friends. When the grub ran low between storms, I slipped out for some more (all it takes is four-wheel drive and American money), and right now the house is redolent of a potent beef-vegetable stew that sits simmering on the range.

I don’t have a gym membership this year, so the snow-shoveling has been a arduous reminder of just how little ethanol-fueled typing does for the upper body.

And a couple of bikes that had been demanding my inept mechanical attention finally got it, for all the good it did them. They’ve been shivering in the garage since the day after Christmas because Herself and I have been cross-country skiing — twice in a nearby park, and once on the streets around our house, which will see a snowplow when Fidel Castro wins a seat on the city council. This town is redder than Rudolph’s snoot, and not in the socialist sense, either, so if they’re not gonna plow the roads, I’m gonna ski ’em until I can see asphalt between my ankles.

Mind you, it’s only been a week or so. This winter wonderland I’m so fond of right now will eventually degenerate into heaps of dirty snow, longing glances at Patagonia via The Weather Channel, and pricey visits to the chiropractor.

But right now, just this minute, it’s pleasant to be shoveling something other than cycling journalism. The same old news can wait for the brand-new year. See you then.

Hot stuff, or did it leave you cold? Send your forecast to webletters@insideinc.com. Don't forget to include your full name, city and state or nation, please. — Editor