Is there anything more nostalgic than laying down in the snow and making a snow angel? I did after Trey made his and was instantly transported back to the white-covered regions of Frankfort, specifically 2107 W. Green St., where I made my first snow angel.

I was dressed appropriately. My moon boots leaked (yes, I did wear moon boots) so my mom made me wrap my feet in the plastic bags that bread come in. You never can be too careful was Mom's philosophy. She would always say "this is good pneumonia weather", even though she, nor I, nor any distant relative had ever endured this acute or chronic disease marked by inflammation of the lungs and caused by viruses, bacteria, or other microorganisms and sometimes by physical and chemical irritants. So, I would wrap myself in Aldi's Foods bread bags (we didn't buy the expensive brands), pull on my leaky boots, tug on my wool gloves that were soggy about 3 seconds after stepping outside, and adjust my ski mask that was pulled down firmly over my glasses making me appear as some mutant aquatic alien creature. Every time I exhaled inside the ski mask it would make my glasses fog up. As a result of that and the bread bags I spent much of my time lumbering awkwardly around the yard and then falling on the ground.

So, when I discovered the snow angel idea, I was like, cool, an activity that starts out with you laying on your back in the snow. It was the beginning of an improving self-esteem. Anytime I fell down, I immediately began waving my arms and legs back and forth, shouting, "Yeah, snow angels. I loooove making snow angels!" I was cool.

I really don't know where all that came from.