I've never been a big fan of January. Probably because it's a month with three (3) family birthdays in it, which always seemed to leave me dead broke, coming as it does after the blizzard of presents that is Christmas.
Worse, January was always the preamble to the coldest month of the year: February. Usually, it's a wonderful time for skiing - if you have the money. If you don't have the money, as I often didn't during college and law school, it's a great time to be snowbound, as cabin fever begins to settle in. About the only upside to January was knowing that the days were getting longer.
I do remember one amazing ski trip, in January, to Killington, just after my sister got married the year before. It was way back in 1985, after I had just started at Siena, and conditions were phenomenal. I spent so much time exposed to the elements that I got frostbite on the very tip of my nose and the tips of all ten fingers. To this day, it's difficult to feel the very tips of my fingers. I guess I should be lucky that I sustained a little minor nerve damage and didn't lose parts of my fingers.