This week, I'm staying with a friend in Brooklyn, a far cry, in many ways, from my home in South Carolina. This morning, as snow fell from the sky, I tried not to smile. My friend had to go to work, and as she pulled on her boots and piled on layers of warm clothing, I felt bad, because I knew how much I was going to enjoy breakfast in her lovely apartment. I'd be warm and safe inside, with a comforting view of falling snow blanketing everything below, softening the sounds on the street. And, with nowhere to go, I'd enjoy the heck out of a peaceful breakfast.