can i get caramel syrup on that?

denial runs strong in a certain faction of minnesotans, viz:  those of us who hate winter. (i know, i know. what can i say? we're stupid stay-puts who don't have the sense god gave a turnip.) today i thought we woke up to 4 inches of the sodden, cement-like stuff lovingly known here as "heart attack snow."

but my winter-hating pal julie set me straight. "it's a rain frappé," she insisted. 

a whaaa?

"a frappé. like the drink. it's not snow – it's whipped, frozen rain. a rain frappé."

i don't know whether to hug her or institutionalize her. perhaps both.