"They say a true blizzard is on its way."

Anyone want to take a stab at who said the above quote?

I have been rather enjoying the pre-blizzard excitement. Facebook is full of people complaining that they aren't ready for snow yet, people worrying about what their drive home from work or school will be like, and people expressing their excitement about the changing weather. I must say that I am one of the latter. Even though this weekend left us with several inches of snow in our backyard, I can still see patches of mud and weeds; I think the real magic will begin sometime tonight, just in time for all of those holiday travelers.

While I always look forward to the first magical snow of the season, I don't think I've ever been so prepared for it. Usually I will wait for months to see that magical snow and it will finally appear some time in mid-December, by which time I have given up on planning sledding excursions and hoping for a white Christmas, catching me completely unawares. But here we are, a few days before Thanksgiving, and everything points to a promise of a white Thanksgiving—and all of Utah waits in anticipation. Tyrel has been on the computer all day looking at Google Earth and updated weather reports, I've seen several trucks drive down our street with their snow plows attached, and most shockingly, my dad finally broke down and bought a snowblower.

During our first winter in Elk Ridge, we got dumped with several feet of snow during our first snowstorm. It is the only time in my living memory that church was actually canceled (I never got a snow day on a school day)—and I was too young to appreciate it. The bishopric called everyone and advised that we shovel our neighbors out of their driveways rather attempt to drive to church, even though it was only a few blocks away for most of us. And so my dad got out his brand-new shovel and spent hours unburying the driveway. I remember running through the sidewalk/driveway with Tiffany after Dad had finished shoveling; the walls of snow were about twice my height. As far as I knew, we were enclosed in a magical igloo of sparkling snow and ice—it was an adventure I had never experienced before and one that I am not likely to ever forget.

After breaking his back (and the shovel) on that record-breaking pile of snow, my dad vowed that he would never be caught unprepared again and he bought a snowblower. As I recall, it worked only when we had an inch or less of snow on the driveway. And we have not since gotten a snowstorm such as the one we saw in '92. So to save my dad from premature crippling, my mom, Tiffany, Kimberly, and I took our turns with our trusty shovel. And then Tyrel got old enough to do all of the manly chores and he's been doing all of the mowing and shoveling ever since.

I knew that buying a snowblower was going to come into play soon, but I figured it would be next winter; Tyrel won't be leaving for his mission until this winter is over. But alas, I was wrong; apparently my dad didn't want to take any chances.

So here I am, safe at home in my comfy clothes, sitting by our Christmas-smelling candle. For once my eagerly anticipated snowstorm will come when I want it to come, and not a month later. I have a feeling it's going to be an impressive winter.