Time for another column, and it seems I'm at a total loss for words.

I was going to write a postValentine's Day rant about what a cruel, commercial sham the holiday is. That probably would have gotten me sued by Hallmark. Then I came into work on Tuesday to find a Vermont Teddy Bear (the Love Ban dit model) sit ting on my desk from a secret admirer who's not really that secret, and melted like the true softy I am. So nix on the Valentine's Day idea.

Then I was going to write about the Oscars, and voice all of my passionate and welldefended feelings about why I agree or disagree with the Academy's choices, and how slighted I feel because my favorite movie isn't up for any awards. Then I remembered that I don't have a favorite movie this year, and my feel ings about the nominated movies are neither passionate nor well-defended, because I haven't seen them, because I haven't seen any movie in the aters since the Celtics were good. OK, it hasn't been that long. But it's been awhile. So there goes the movie idea.

Then I was going to write about iPods, and how they're taking over the music world and I'm none too happy about it. Then I realized I don't know anything about iPods, besides the fact that they're taking over the music world, so I threw that idea out the win dow.

So now all I'm left to write about is snowstorms and Peru. Interestingly, the two are related. In the recent snowstorm, my adventure went something like this:

At 10 a.m., I was getting snowed on in my bathroom -- the bathroom window has some rather significant gaps I had failed to notice up until that day. But they became readily apparent to me as I was batting away snowflakes blown in by the wind while brushing my teeth.

Around 10:45, I nearly killed myself on my back steps. They're grated metal steps that are typical of fire escapes; I'm sure they're some kind of building code violation. Anyway, I was too busy sizing up the snow situation to notice the ice that was covering them, so I slipped, slid, flailed wildly, and if not for my catlike reflexes (or just sheer des peration) I would probably be in a full-body cast right now.

Then at roughly 10:50, 10:55, and 11 a.m. I got stuck in the snow and had to dig myself out while my hands went numb, only to discover the true meaning of zero visibility once I was actually driving. (You know it's pretty bad when sticking your head out the win dow while snow is being piledriven into your face is a bet ter option than looking out your windshield.)

All of this to get to a place, as it turns out, that I didn't actually have to be.

Then, a day or two later, while the snow-induced resent ment was still fresh in my mind, I saw pictures of Peru in a magazine given to me by a woman who grew up there.

It seemed like a cruel joke, that a place this beautiful could exist in a world where I was nearly killing myself on ice and spinning my wheels in snow.

It didn't take long, about three pictures actually, for me to seriously consider picking up my things, driving my car out of the snow bank it was parked in, and heading south until I saw a sign for the Andes Mountains.

Why couldn't this be my life, at least for a little while? The old, ornate buildings, lush valleys, people dressed in ponchos, busy making ceramics the old-fashioned way. It seemed like a place with no iPods, no Oscars, no Valentine's Day, and most importantly, no snow. It seemed like a place I wanted to be.

Yes, I know Peru is much more than some breathtaking pictures shot for a magazine, and I'm sure it has its own version of snowstorms. But for a few minutes, until I was able to gather up enough strength to articulate the question, ``I'm sorry, but why would you ever leave a place like this?'' I was at a total loss for words.

That time, it was in a good way.

STAFF WRITER LAUREN CARTER can be reached at lcarter(at)(at)thesunchronicle.com.