Tuesday, December 06, 2005


We got a fair dusting. A fairytale enhancement to the landscape. Sugar coating. A genteel sufficiency.
Montgomery County schools? Two hours late, naturellement. That’s the one thing I neglected to mention yesterday—the two hours late business gets really old after awhile. It’s the full Monty you’re looking for, and that is the government closing. That’s where there’s no guilt all around.

Nick said it was the best morning in the world. He started a snow fort and made the perfect snowball, which Ian summarily crushed with one boot stroke. (Daisy was only an onlooker). Depsite his momentary snowball setback, he had a great time.

Daisy, like a true girl, was FAR more excited about donning her iridescent purple snowsuit. But once her dainty hands got buried in the snow, she was ready for a teary repair to the inner sanctum of the chalet. Ian didn’t like it when the snow found a way to trickle into the space between his sleeve and his mitten. He shook his hand in fury and looked up to the skies in Biblical indignation, like Job.
I am having coffee typing on the computer. I am sitting at home with the sun streaming in. All the trees still have the snow delicately lining their boughs, all the way up. That intricate winter filigree thing.

As I said, I am drinking coffee. I am sitting at home on my computer. I know this would get old if I did it every day. RIGHT? I know. I wouldn’t be able to afford the daycare, which is granting me this serenity right now.

I saw my neighbors this morning. Barbara kindly asked me about my job. My job is great. There is no doubt about it. Nice people, excellent location, worthwhile subject matter. I am no longer working for a dishonest water buffalo. And yet…Don’t you hate the “and yet” part? That’s the part of your secret crummy heart—that fickle worthless place—that refuses to be satisfied. That always wonders, um…is this enough? Why aren’t I happier? That’s so dumb. Be grateful…be grateful…be grateful. I am so grateful and so mindful and Christian and perfect on this subject of being thankful for what I have. And yet tormented that I know it’s not enough. Not only is it not enough, it is not what I want. And yet the olde Clydesdale can’t seem to outfox The Man. Damn Oprah! Follow your dreams and all that.

Time for the shower. The lather rinse repeat. It’s OK. Just the customary, frivolous life assessment. It will be quiet driving in. Transformed landscape. Everyone will be more holiday-oriented. The snow is the best special effect—the seasonal fairy sprinkle that alters the picture and puts us in mind of The Season. And all that.


Cynicism is another word for reality

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