Of Better Boots and Proper Puddings

Snow be damned, we were going to go out.

The plan was to go to the Firehouse for a grade B movie and some comic commentary, a la Mystery Science Theater.

Looking out the window over the white-covered rooftops of Jackson Ward, it was tempting to just stay in.

"Let's go," I was directed. "It'll be an adventure."

True that and the worst that could happen would be that the event had been cancelled and we'd still have had a snowy walk.

Only one problem. Leaving the Ward at that point in the snowfall meant the roads were kind of a mess. We drove one block and canned that idea.

With reinforcements of an extra layer of wool and gloves, we set out for the Firehouse. There were a surprisingly large number of cars on the road for 8:30 on a Sunday night.

Pre-holiday snowy bar seekers perhaps?

The snow was more of a sleet at this point, but we made it to our destination only to find the cancellation sign on the door that I'd anticipated all along.

Time for Plan B: dessert and wine at Ipanema.

We arrived with my feet soaking wet and cold (wrong boot choice and a bad call on my part) to a cozy, warm and welcoming room.

The bartender looked glad for more company. We got a bottle of Analisa Primitivo and considered the sweets.

A girl walked in with a skirt and tights on. As she and her date stood there looking at the chalkboard, I commented, "What kind of person wears a skirt and tights out on a night like this?"

She turned around, saw my dress and tights and laughed. "Thanks for the validation!" she said pointing at me as her date rolled his eyes.

For dessert, I got blueberry pie a la mode and my partner-in-crime got the almond apricot cake. We both thought we'd made the best choice.

There just isn't a better late night dessert bar than Ips.

As we sat there savoring our puddings (as my Scottish friend would say), one of the servers walked up and started looking for music.

"All I have is stupid world music on my iPod," he grumbled.

We weren't sure if that meant that his iPod was full of world music of the stupid variety or if perhaps he had been in a different kind of mood (say, pop or folk or metal) and was realizing that all he had was world music available.

In any case, his music began with post-rock and moved forward most agreeably from there.

There weren't a lot of people in Ipanema, but little clutches of them kept arriving as we lingered over our Primitivo, enjoying the warmth.

I saw several friends, one of whom claimed she wished she were at home in her jammies.

By the time we left there, the sleet had returned to snow and we had a lovely stroll home with much more hushed streets.

Once we got back to the Ward, we began hearing the distinctive sounds of fireworks popping and whistling a few blocks away.

Doesn't every neighborhood celebrate a fine snow with pyrotechnics?

And while some people might have been longing for the their pajamas by that point, we decided to go listen to some '90s mixes made by a young man I once knew.

Because, after music from a cave, young man music is my very favorite kind. Such passion! Such energy! Such hopefulness!

Even more so when I knew the young man who had put it together.

Such a perfect soundtrack to sit in front of the windows and admire the incredibly bright midnight light that comes with a good nighttime snow.

Snow be damned, it was nice to be in after all.