Walking in a winter wonderland...

I grew up in North East Pennsylvania, where the Pocono Mountains reign supreme, the snow drifts were incredible, and snow-days were built into the school-year.  Hence I have many winter tales to tell.  But I gotta pick just one for Weekend Assignment #42.  Mr. Scalzi sez, "Share your favorite story of Winter cold -- preferably (but not necessarily) involving something freezing inconveniently and humorously.  Extra credit: Name a song that reminds you of winter that's not Christmas-themed."

I did not have heat in my bedroom during my high-school years.  So, my bed was covered with layers of quilts and blankets.  I slept in between blankets, rather than use sheets that were bitingly cold.  The thin blankets were still chilly, though.  I wore cuddl duds (or other thermal underwear), socks and long sleeved night shirts that covered my wrists and a good portion of my hands.  I even had a red knit stocking cap with a red and white pom-pom for extremely cold nights when my breath would fog and my ears would ache.

It was not going to bed that I minded, however; it was getting up and ready for school that made me clench my teeth and brace for the cold.  I had developed a routine to help deal with these mornings.  It went something like this:

Hop out of bed at 7:30, dash across the room, turn off the alarm and scoop up the clothes laid out the night before; throw them into the warm nest, vacated only seconds prior, and flip the covers over them to hold what heat there was in to defrost the clothing; dash to the bathroom, perch precariously, splash frigid water on face, washing hands and brushing teeth; return to bed and hop in on top the still-chilly clothes and lay down til my heart beat slowed enough to stop panting and my hands thawed; dress in stages, allowing one portion of me and my clothes to become slightly acclimated before shocking my sensitive skin with the next frigid item; fly down the steps, grabbing my coat on the way; position myself over the kerosene heater, warming my shoes and then my coat before wriggling into them; run down the street to the bus-stop, thus keeping warm, getting my daily exercise, and maintaining that lovely pink-cheeked glow....

I coulda been a contendah (in the winter olympics for decathalon...ok, tricatholon...alright, none of the events).

As far as a song goes, at this time, I can only think of a portion from "The Rose...just remember, in the winter, far beneath the bitter snow, lies a seed that with the sun's love, in the spring, becomes a rose."