I’ve been cowering on the couch all morning, fearful of my ten minute scooter ride through the freezing air. When I moved to D.C. last March I bought an adorable Calvin Klein DOWN jacket from Filene’s Basement. It has a fur-lined hood (real raccoon) and everything. Little did I know, feathers don’t always equal warm. I roasted in the dressing room but the fashionable thing doesn’t stand up to rain, wind, anything colder than 35 degrees and certainly not the gale-force feeling of motoring on a wobbly little hunk of metal at 40 miles an hour. So this weekend I pooled all my Christmas checks and bought a water-proof, expedition-ready monstrosity from North Face. I promise to come to work in time to see the most courteous cleaning guy in the city as soon as it arrives in the mail. For now, I’ll just suck it up. On my way, boss.

Even if D.C. ever really got enough snow to make a snowman, I have to wonder: Is there anything more pathetic than one that comes to life via Restoration Hardware?

To wit: Kit ($14.99) comes with “everything you need to dress Frosty in his finest,” including “coal” for the eyes and mouth, a “carrot” nose, three buttons, and a pipe, all carved of hardwood and mounted on skewers. While waiting for enough snow to hold your wood, keep your handcrafted items in the knit cap (surely not made in Sri Lanka). It doubles as a storage bag!

No need to search for stones and sticks. That’s for the kids in Ward 7.

There appears to be a major sidewalk divide. The sidewalks fronting old row houses had yet to be salted down. Those walkways were still sheets of ice by 9:30 this morning. But the sidewalks in front of some sleek lofts in Adams Morgan were clear. Also clear were the sidewalks in front of Starbucks and Results on U Street NW. Not so clear: the sidewalk bordering the Third District Police Station.

So put ice removal in the positive column for D.C.’s gentrification wave.

I was running late to work this morning. I needed to be at a meeting at noon. I had 25 minutes to make the mile walk to CP’s offices. And there was snow falling. I know. I know. The roads and sidewalks were generally fine. And the snow flakes were the size of sea salt. I still immediately thought about wussing out and taking a cab.

All I had was $5. I knew my $5 wasn’t going to get me to the office. But my fiver could get me close to my destination. I figured maybe a cab driver would want to play good citizen on the occasion of our first bit of snow.

I found an idling cab on 16th Street–about two-thirds of the way to my office. Through a crack in the cab’s passenger-side window, I made my pitch to the cabbie: “All I have is $5,” I shouted. “Could you take me as far as my $5 could go?”

The cabbie just smiled and shook his head. He then drove away leaving me to dodge snow flakes and sidewalk puddles.

I arrived at my meeting on time. But I had to jog every other block to make it. I’m wondering why my cab driver wouldn’t accept my offer? It wouldn’t have taken up much of his time. And I was honest.

Attention all pedestrians: If you are crossing any of the Potomac bridges today, please be warned: Those gusts are strong. Do your best to minimize wind resistance. Do not carry big pieces of cardboard or plywood. Button and zip all garments. Hold spit until such a time as you have a windbreak. Do not attempt conversations, either on cell phone or with other pedestrians. These tips are derived from personal experience.

Given that it’s too hot to think, I was going to post my recommendation for cooling down: eat hot soup or coffee. Apparently, though, I’ve been perpetrating an urban myth. I still think there’s something thrilling about slurping down a bowl of pho when the temperature outside is the same as in the bowl.

Nonetheless, the other obsession on my mind is the annual debate over the Song of the Summer, aka the No. 1 Summertime Jam. What will it be, kids? Mims? TI? Kelly Rowland? So far, there’s nothing quite as all inclusively party-starting as last year’s “Crazy”, or even “Hips Don’t Lie,” which I warmed up to.

Friday’s freezing sleet shower wasn’t just annoying. It threatened to wreck the Pharmacy Prophets/Welbilt show at Iota. Prophet drummer Ben Mellott got stuck in traffic on I-66. But at least he was in the same state as the gig. The guy originally scheduled to back Welbilt never got closer than the New Jersey Turnpike. Fortunately, the Fairfax alternapoppers had a backup. Drummer Mike Smirnoff got a call at 7 p.m. for the 9 p.m. gig. Mike had a date. He canceled the date. As he said later, when rock ‘n’ roll calls, “You gotta live it.”

Smirnoff arrived for the 8 o’clock soundcheck with just his sticks and drum throne, because the plan was that both bands would use Mellott’s gear. But the only thing onstage between the amps and mic stands was empty space. After some moments of anxious cell calls, Mellott and his black Pearl kit finally arrived and the show got underway on time.

Considering the weather, a surprisingly hearty crowd enjoyed a set of briskly melodic pop from Welbilt and the debut of songs from the Prophets‘ gothic rock opera Fantome, which the band plans to turn into a short film.

When a truck with D.C. government insignia and a bed full of salt remained parked on the 1500 block of Allison Street NW for almost two weeks, Louis Wassel and his neighbors thought perhaps the city had started giving individual neighborhoods salt trucks as part of a new DIY clean-up initiative. Wassel was rolling up his sleeves, readying to help.

But when City Desk contacted DPW earlier this week, turns out the truck was just broken down. It has since been towed.

DPW spokesperson Linda Grant thought the idea of a neighborhood truck made a lot of sense, though.

“Considering what it has been like with the snowstorms and ice storms,” Grant says, “that might be a good idea.”

Photo courtesy of Louis Wassel

Mayor Adrian Fenty didn’t pass on the opportunity today to talk about the city’s snow removal prowess following an impressive looking, but wimpy, storm that briefly covered the city’s streets. After all, he’d heard enough complaints about the city’s performance during the last storm.

After briefing reporters on the city’s successful snow removal efforts, Fenty took the show down to the Kennedy Recreation Center in Shaw, where he was scheduled to shovel some sidewalks. It was an irresistible shot for the TV new hounds, which despite peeling off layers and driving on dry streets were still on full storm-watcher mode.

But when LL arrived at about 10:30 a.m. the walk and steps at the front of the building were dry and salted. The staff had to intentionally leave some slush out back around the basketball court for the mayor, and that show was quickly melting. Staff at the rec center told LL that they would have had it cleared hours ago if not for the staged mayoral clearing.

When Fenty arrived in his black overcoat, gloves and fedora, he quickly got to work pushing an ergonomically correct day-glo-orange shovel. “This is good exercise,” the mayor noted, as he sloshed through the slop using the bulldozer technique. From the peanut gallery, one maintenance worker advised the mayor to “bend your knees a little more so you won’t hurt your back.” The mayor assured the crowd that he knew how to handle a shovel. “I’ve been doing this since I was nine years old,” he shot back. The mayor cleared and salted a 20-foot stretch of sidewalk in about three minutes.

Fenty was ostensibly at the rec center to clarify resident’s role in snow removal—a task being performed quite well by the warming trend. “Everyone has to shovel their own sidewalk,” says the mayor, who said that he personally cleared the snow at his Crestwood home.

The mayor’s stunt was appreciated by Kennedy staffer Donald Felder, who usually handles the shoveling duties. “We’re going to let him do all he wants,” said Felder. “If he wants to get the baseball season started early, we’ve got a whole field under snow out there.”

Love knows no boundaries—not even freezing temperatures, icy roads, and high winds that had the potential to turn a romantic night out into the lead story on the nightly news. I contacted a handful of restaurants that were offering special Valentine’s Day menus, and most reported brisk business yesterday, despite the nasty conditions outside.

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OK, the Washington Post has captured pretty well the mood of the city on the Fenty administration’s handling of its first snowstorm. Weak, that is.

No swarming trucks, key routes untouched by municipal machinery, pedestrian walks on bridges such as Taft and Duke Ellington a complete mess. In all, no presence from an administration that prides itself on just that.

So if Fenty botches your average snowstorm, how’s he going to handle the D.C. public schools?

How much do you have? Fifteen feet? Twenty feet? Maybe just a little more?

So, then, just how hard is it to get off your ass and shovel that strip of sidewalk frontage in front of your nice D.C. home? Apparently way too hard.

What’s your excuse, The Ambassador multi-unit building at 1750 16th St. NW? Clearing the sidewalk is the law. Don’t you got a condo association? Or someone in there who cares enough—enough to perhaps just clear out a one-shovel-wide strip so that your fellow disenfranchised D.C. residents don’t have to slog through the slush on their way around town?

And what about you, you Universalists on the corner of 16th and S? What’s your excuse? These days, according to your Web site, you are “enjoying sermons from ordained and lay preachers from a variety of backgrounds.” How ’bout putting some of those brilliant souls to work out front? Furthermore, you call yourselves a “a liberal Christian church in the heart of the city.” Meaning, there’s a lot of talk in your halls about community and other feel-good causes. You folks probably ponied up for 9/11 relief. I’m betting that a group of you did some hammering and nailing in the wake of Katrina. You probably all agree about the scourges of global warming and its impact on future communities.

Well, you know what? The rubber of all those dear liberal principles hits the road in a snowstorm. If you can’t clear the walk for me, you’re not part of the community. Same for you, Windsor Inn at 1842 16th Street. What kind of inn are you, anyway?

On an up note—good work, Washington House at 2120 16th.