Tag Archives: ice

In Good Times and Bad

komatik 001

They  travel by snow machine pulling a heavy komatik behind them, for hours and hours across the tundra and the ocean ice towards the horizon, getting nowhere.

The sunlight reflecting off the ice and snow is blinding and the cold dry air makes her face feel like frozen leather, chilling her body to the bone.

This is not the life she imagined.

Back home at a dinner party he is animated in the telling of their great adventure while she sips her wine with fever blistered lips and a puzzled stare.

Roxy looks at one and then the other and back again, suddenly raising her glass to drink to the notion that theirs is surely a marriage made in hell.

Lillie McFerrin style=

Five Sentence Fiction is about packing a powerful punch in a tiny fist. This weeks word – Marriage.

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Many Dog Nights

Winter Storm
Winter Storm (Photo credit: elycefeliz)

Winters icy fingers

Clutch my frozen heart

I’m lost in raw December darkness

Blizzard winds

Treacherous ice

Suffocating snow

Chilled to the depths of my Siberian soul.

Oh, wait!

There’s Christmas.

Never mind.

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trifecta button

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Trifextra Week Ninety Six:

This weekend we are asking for a 33-word free write.  Give us whatever you’ve got.

Seven Year Flight, No Landing in Sight

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I SO love to state the obvious.  No one cares enough to disagree with you when you do that.

We got the snow the weather people promised us yesterday.  A lot of it melted during the day and froze again over night, so this morning it was seasonably cold and the roads were covered in ice.  Glare ice, actually.  As if the kind that glares is even more dangerous than the dull stuff.  Or the ominous black kind.  They’re all super annoying.  I chose this day to drive across town to my doctor’s office, going through three school zones all on the same street between 8:30 and 9:00 a.m.  Yeah, I don’t know what I was thinking either.

This normally 10 minute long drive took about half an hour of brake pumping and the odd sideways slide.  Then I had to walk across an ice-covered parking lot without falling on my head, go up a double flight of stairs and down a long set of confusing corridors, sit down and immediately have a blood pressure monitor cut off the circulation in my right arm.  Those things freak me out.  So although I took several deep breaths and thought calm and happy thoughts, my reading was high.  There’s a reason for calling it hypertension.

To make myself feel better about winter and all the damned ice and my life in general,  I crunched my way over the treacherous McDonald’s drive-thru on the way home and picked up breakfast for me and W, including two gigantic coffees.  Take that, high blood pressure.

I don’t even care if all this mundane blather about my morning is boring the hell out of you.  Well, maybe I’m a bit sorry about that, but I have my reasons.  For being boring that is.  Yesterday I got this notification from the Word Press stats people. Or a cheery enthusiastic computer perhaps.

anniversary-1x

You registered on WordPress.com 7 years ago!

Thanks for flying with us. Keep up the good blogging!

So there you go.  No wonder I’ve been feeling slightly bloggishly burned out lately.  I’m not that interesting a person or deluded enough to believe I could have seven years worth of astoundingly brilliant things to say.

This is post one thousand five hundred and eight.  Which means you could sit around all day clicking on my random posts picture top right (see that lady gazing at her glass of wine?) and probably never read the same thing twice.  Except I do tend to repeat myself a lot, so don’t hold me to that.  Because, come on.  It’s been seven years. Better open a bottle before you start.

Crazy.  But the first five years don’t really count because I posted so sporadically and was mostly talking to myself when I started.  It’s only in the last couple of years that I have ventured out of my little blogging cocoon and made some friends.

It’s been a rather long flight.  Sure hope the plane doesn’t crash.

Left Behind

"mors vincit omnia"
“mors vincit omnia” (Photo credit: Sinéad McKeown)

Cruel wind howls

Where he kneels as still as death

His grieving face is granite

His tears have turned to ice

Forsaken

Left behind in frozen darkness

With his stone cold broken heart

***

This is in response to this weekends Trifextra challenge: 

trifecta button..thirty-three word response using the word stone as one of your
thirty-three words.  You can use any
definition of the word
that you’d like, but we are specifically looking for
serious, well-conceived entries.

A House Elf for Christmas

My house husband (he’s like a house elf except taller) is either bored out of his mind being home all day or really super excited about Christmas.  Just a second while I check the calendar .  It is still November, isn’t it?

Never EVER have we had our outside lights up, our Christmas tree decorated, and our cards on the table ready to be signed, sealed and sent before the middle of December.  Until now.  Every day some new Christmas thing magically appears on a doorknob or a shelf or a table or some random wall space.  Things I’ve had packed away and forgotten about are surfacing everywhere.  It’s a little scary.

For instance, there’s this card that I brought home from Scotland in 2007.  Because that’s what people do when they travel to Scotland – they buy Christmas cards and bring them home across the ocean.  I did that, so it must be true.

There was a box of different designs by Thomas Joseph and somehow I missed sending this one out to anyone. So now it’s a keepsake.  It was in a rather large box filled with a random assortment of unsent cards from years gone by which W is strongly suggesting I use up before purchasing more.  (Too late, but he doesn’t need to know that right now.)  And he also may have mentioned the many rolls of unused Christmas wrapping paper in the store-room.  As well as the fact that the whole house is full of an insane amount of shit.

So on the one hand he’s telling me to get rid of all this crap, and on the other he’s wondering whatever happened to that plastic ice holder thingy that used to be in the freezer because he’d like to put ice in it.  The more I think about it and search for it, the more convinced I am becoming that I probably threw it out last summer.  I went through a crazy stage in my life where I was making a supreme effort to get rid of a bunch of the shit that our house is so full of.  And see what happens when I try that.  So I’m not doing it again without supervision.

Don’t get me wrong, I am not in any way being critical or trying to discourage whatever the hell he’s up to around here.  Even though some of my cupboards have been rearranged and he hangs things up that should go in the dryer and vice versa and he threw out my half glass of wine that had been sitting on the counter for about 48 hours.  Maybe I was letting it breathe.  He could have asked.

Nope, I’m actually thrilled that I didn’t have to wrestle with the stupid tree this year or figure out where to hang that snowman with the dangly legs which end in giant jingle bells.  When W goes to bring in the paper tomorrow morning with that thing hanging on the doorknob, whatever happens next will not be my fault.

Christmas tree

I think it’s excellent that he discovered we already had parmesan cheese out of sight in the back of the fridge, but his timing was off and he should have let me know that before I came home with more.  He’s been doing most of the grocery shopping and apparently I just mess up his system, so perhaps I should gracefully hand that responsibility over to him in its entirety.  I’ve done it for forty years, the next forty can be his.

I can’t get out of the Christmas card writing though. If he did the cards with his House Elf handwriting most people wouldn’t have a clue who sent them.  Sometimes he can’t even read what he’s written himself. So I’ll let him off the hook for that Christmas chore.  And I’ll probably still cook the turkey.

But everything else – wow – he’s doing a bang up job.  I will try to stay happy cheering from the sidelines.  For the next thirty days.  It’s gonna be a long Christmas.

November Kiai

Once again my horoscope calls it like it is.

You may feel like you need C-3PO, the translator droid from Star Wars … just to make sense of the bizarre gobbledygook coming out of your own mouth.

Kiai
Kiai (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

It’s a little scary how they know me so well.  Sorry if you thought this post might be about karate, because it’s not.  It’s about my strong desire to karate chop November into oblivion with a mighty spirit yell.  Everyone who thinks like I do would have gotten all that simply from reading the title.  So that would probably be  a whole lot of people  exactly no one.

Okay!  Most of us here have survived the first really big snowfall of the season in the last couple of days.  There have been accidents and there have been fatalities.  The roads are horrible, but there are still those among us who believe we should all be in a crazy great hurry to get somewhere.  When you’re flipped over in a snow bank I suppose your priorities might change.

Work has been painfully dead, so what better way to wile away the time than by going through all the dead files and taking out everything that’s over seven years old?  Right.  After several hours of that my brain is also dead.  And the Shred-It box is about to burst.  Something to anticipate.

I’m trying so hard not to hate the snow, because hate is such a wasted emotion, but damn, I hate the snow.  It’s cold and it hurts my eyes.  It has to be brushed off my car.  It freezes to my windshield.  It covers up ice patches and lures me right to them, looking all fluffy and innocent.  Or it forms itself into crunchy ruts and hard packed drifts so it can chew up the snow shovel and spit it out, smirking like a bratty child.  No, I haven’t heard snow laugh yet, but it’s probably only a matter of time.

Snow Cat
Snow Cat (Photo credit: clickclique)

November is no doubt a perfectly lovely month in many other parts of this world.  I need to go to one of those places one of these dreary Novembers.  Meanwhile, I’ve jacked up the heat and hunkered down with my back to the windows and a glass of wine in my hand to help me forget what month it is.  As well as who I am and where I live, if I’m lucky.  Maybe later I’ll come up with my very own spirit yell.  I might have to send W out at some point on a wine gathering mission, but I’m not going anywhere today.  No no no November.