I hate winter. I hate snow. I hate cold, I hate ice. I mutter these words as I climb out of my soul-less and hateful car, which has just broken down on Route 2 in the middle of a once-in-a-decade blizzard.
I can’t stay in the car because the engine is dead. Kaput. Lifeless and useless. I’ll freeze if I sit in the silver-metal icebox, so I trudge ahead, looking for some kind of sign of life.
And then I see it. Or her. Or whatever he/she/it/they is. A human-like form of gossamer silver and white, waving towards me. She (for I tend to think of angels as she), is either one-half a mile away, or two yards. With the snow whipping across my face it’s hard to tell. Continue reading
I’ve had my head down since 6 a.m., after I brewed my hot green tea, prepared the 1½ graham crackers I allow myself each early morning, and settled into my writing table at our second story home office. An hour and a half later, seemed like minutes, I finally notice that my tea is cold, and I look up.
I gasp. Continue reading
The outlook is bleak for millions of us as we peer outside our windows. We now live in a gray and white world.
I’m begging for some color. So I go inside to my imagination. Isn’t that the place we all should enter, when life becomes too monochromatic?
I want sun, no, I NEED sun like the birds and the bees and all the flowers (not) on the trees… Ah ha, I know what I’ll do. Continue reading
When I think about it, I realize that I could be in a worse place.
Like Siberia. Or Algeria.
Actually, maybe Algeria is nice. I’m not sure, but I know it’s a heck of a lot warmer than this stretch of New England marshland in mid-winter at 1:32 p.m. Continue reading
Halfway down a mountain overlooking Lake Tahoe, I think grimly: I will eviscerate him first. And then…then I’ll look for a den of bears. Bears must be hiding here in this bone-chilling Sierra mountain – and I’ll show them the way to my boyfriend’s (make that ex-boyfriend’s) body.
This occurs back in the time when my guy was a new guy in my life. Upon reading this memory, you may wind up amazed that he’s still my guy and not long gone.
You may think me cold and heartless to harbor such thoughts, but after reading about his insistence during our early romance to drive to Squaw Valley at Lake Tahoe where “I’ll teach you to ski – it’s easy. You’ll have it down in one easy lesson” – you’ll come away believing my hope to torture him with an electric prod rather tame. Continue reading