So the first great snowfall of 2010 has come and gone, and I daresay most of us survived. My yard looked like Jack Frost gently sneezed across it. The most annoying thing about this storm was wrangling hyper, snow-hungry kids on Thursday, and dealing with their disappointment Friday morning when they realized we hadn’t gotten the foot of snow they’d prayed for.

The weatherman only has to mention the “s” word and suddenly, the grocery stores are swamped with people buying milk, bread and toilet paper. I get the toilet paper, but I don’t understand why there’s a run on milk and bread. Do most people live on milk toast during snowstorms? If we’re housebound, I want some fun food to pull us through. I’d at least grab a bag of Oreos to go with that milk.

I was at Walmart last Monday, days before the predicted storm, and the milk supply was already sparse. I had to cough up the big bucks for Mayfield milk, which wasn’t really a sacrifice at all. I don’t know what it is about that magical yellow jug, but their milk truly is the best.

Another annoying thing about these Atlanta-area snow storms is enduring the heckling from our friends up north.

Yes, we are weather wimps. No, we would not know what to do if a real storm ever hit us, which is exactly why most of us have enough sense to stay home when wintry weather is forecast.

Trust me—shutting down the city is for the protection of its citizens. Atlanta already has one of the highest car crash rates in the country. Have you ever witnessed the frightening spectacle of a native southerner trying to drive in icy conditions? Multiply that by what, a million or so automobiles and it makes sense to keep everybody home until the roads are clear.

My friend Heidi is happy to proclaim herself a winter weather wimp. She lives in Florida now, after several years in Albany, New York turned her against the cold stuff forever.

“There were a couple of days when we got around 3 feet of snow each time it fell,” she says. “Our little driveway had 7 foot snow walls on either side of the pavement from shoveling. It took hours to shovel it, but it was a great workout, because snow is so heavy. They only closed school one day the whole time we lived there, and it wasn’t for snow. It was for cold. With the wind chill, it felt like -45 degrees F.”

When I hear about conditions like those, I understand why northerners laugh their frozen heinies off at our general panic over the lightest of flurries. I can’t imagine living in those conditions for months on end, every morning having to dig my car out of snow, then melt sheets of ice off it before being able to open the door.

My late grandfather grew up in New York, but retained his love of snow. He would walk to our house on snow days and play with us for hours, sledding down our big hill, and building snowmen so solid, they still stood a week after everything else melted.

My husband also grew up around the white stuff, and anticipates snow days as much as our kids. He swears he can tell it’s going to snow by the smell in the air, and he’s been sniffing like a bloodhound all week.

Maybe it’s our love of snow that drew us to choose a husky/shepherd mix for our first dog. Tonya loved the snow. She would run and play in it for ages; even when she was old and tired, she perked up at the sight of it. She died three years ago, and I still miss her every time we’re blessed with a snow day. I like to think of her and my grandfather, playing fetch-the-snowball together in some beautiful, snow-covered corner of heaven.

I’m not in any huge hurry to get there, but it’s going to be great to play with them again someday.