Your cocktail sir,





2004-12-23 - 12:27 a.m.

Itís very cold outside, and there was several inches of snow deposited everywhere. I just finished shoveling my parents driveway and walk because I couldnít 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 donít 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 Iím perched here before the fire with my laptop. I really donít want the morning to come, as that means dealing with frantic holiday shoppers and disinterested husbands who have nothing better to do while the wifeís 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.

previous - next

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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