Are you looking for a snowball fight?
It's 65 degrees the first week of January and there's snow.
No, it isn't a joke. I made snowballs, snow angels, ate s'mores, drank hot chocolate and raced down the snow hill on tubes.
As I pulled into the parking lot at Atlanta's Stone Mountain, I was sweating from the ride and the excessive amounts of clothing I piled on that morning. My memories of snow always involve frigid temperatures. Snow and I haven't always gotten along, and six years ago, while living in Silverthorne, Colo., I swore it off forever.
It wasn't the driving conditions, the cold temperatures or even the surprise blizzards at the end of August.
For me, the final battle with snow came in early November. When I was scheduled to be at work in 15 minutes, a mere mile away, I found my car buried in several feet of snow.
Three hours, a lot of help and several frustrated exclamations later, I was on my way to work after having dug a hole through the white powdery substance that was piled above my door handles.
That was it. No more snow for me. I packed my things, gave away my snow gear and was back on the East Coast by mid-December.
I never thought I would've been so excited to see snow, but as I got closer to Atlanta, I could barely sit still.
The thoughts racing in my mind took me back to childhood - the haphazard snowmen, the snow fort without a ceiling, the sledding adventures, the snowball wars.
Always bundled up with three layers and an extra pair of socks, it was inevitable I would sweat and freeze all at the same time.
When I got dressed for Snow Mountain, I layered and then I layered again. After all, where there is snow, it must be cold.
By the time I got to the gates of Snow Mountain, I was dripping wet, and not from the snow.
Excited screams of thrills reached my ears as I watched tube racers speed to the bottom of the 400-foot snow hill. I was ready. As soon as my feet hit the slush, I reached a bare hand to the snow. It was cold!
As I pulled my gloves on and walked into line, I was handed a single-rider tube racer and directed onto the SnoLift (moving carpet). I and a steady line of others were inching closer and closer to our launching point. Some were anxious while others challenged their friends, strategically plotting which of the nine lanes looked faster based on the size of the pusher.
At the top, I found myself egging my pusher on, telling him I wanted to beat the guy next to me (my friend, not a random stranger). All of a sudden, I was racing across the slippery ice on my way toward the finish line. Hair plastered to my face, everything whizzed by as I laughed my way to the bottom.
Nearing the finish line, I knew I was supposed to put my feet down to slow my tube, but as I glanced to my side, I saw I was barely in the lead. I had to win, I wasn't stopping until I saw whose feet touched first.
"Maybe that wasn't such a good plan," I thought a little too late when I saw the look of the safety person's face at the end of the run and heard the scream, "Put your feet down!"
As I slowed to a stop, I uttered a sheepish apology, and heard my friend say, "I'm not tall enough to get my feet down to stop." The attendant rolled her eyes at him as we ran off to throw snowballs at each other and enjoy a cup of hot chocolate.
While we may not see snow in Aiken this winter, Atlanta has enough to thrill the entire family for hours.
There are activities for all ages and lots of snow.
Atlanta's Stone Mountain Park transformed into a winter wonderland with Snow Mountain on New Year's Eve and will continue the snowy festivities on weekends through March 1. Tickets are $25 a person plus tax.
For more information, visit www.snowmountainpark.com.