2004-12-23 - 12:27 a.m.
It�s very cold outside, and there was several inches of snow deposited everywhere. I just finished shoveling my parents driveway and walk because I couldn�t sleep. The snow, due to the cold I suppose, was just lovely and not wet or heavy. It resembled snow one would expect to find sprinkled over a Department 56 village or perhaps in a mall in Santa Monica, hiding the electrical fittings for Rudolph so the children can believe in the magic.
I still find myself with a case of insomnia that television nor internet seems capable of breaking. Physical labor also failed and so I find myself pondering the next step. The dogs are loving my presence here in the middle of the night. Getting excited and bringing me toys. I had them with me while I was shoveling and they reveled in the moonlight, two black labs against the white covering everything. They don�t like each other, but it seems that fresh snow and a tennis ball were too much to let old bitterness get in the way of a good time.
Both of them were afraid of the plows. As was I, a little bit.
All of my doubts and insecurities seem very far away, as I�m perched here before the fire with my laptop. I really don�t want the morning to come, as that means dealing with frantic holiday shoppers and disinterested husbands who have nothing better to do while the wife�s at Wal*Mart except waste my time with fictional cars and trucks being restored in their garages back home. I just want to sit here, in front of the fire, forever, waiting for my toes to get warm again and my eyes to get too heavy to stay awake.
Zen and don't cry out loud - 2007-07-29
Zen and the stumbling rocks of fitness - 2007-07-19
- - 2007-07-11
Zen and fasting - 2007-06-20
Zen and hiccups - 2007-06-18
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