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itsallovernowMy mom is having surgery in a few weeks and the doctor abruptly changed the date and time on her. Since she's had this scheduled for several months, she promptly calls the doctor and demands to be surgered early in the day.
When she tells me this, I suggest that while she doesn't want to be last in the queue, she also may not want to be first. After all, what if he's not a morning person. She may want him to warm up first on someone else. She pauses and says, "Well, that's true. For instance, if it were you operating, I definitely wouldn't want you to do it first thing in the morning." My mother, she knows me far too well. Anyone who's spent time with me in the morning knows it is not my preferred milieu. Hussy gatherings here or on the East Coast are always categoriezed by, "Okay, who's going to get Thea coffee so she'll get her ass out of bed."
I took my nap (ah, naps, how I missed you in the throes of my Sudafed addiction!!) to Murder on the Orient Express yesterday, waking up when Hercule Poirot is in mid-investigation and the train is stopping in this snowy nowhere and it's just so utterly romantic. Snow, expanses of nothingness, an elegant train. I have a secret fondness for being warm and wrapped while the world outside is white and stark and daunting. And yes, I also have a not-so secret fondness for Doctor Zhivago for the same reason. But there is a romanticism that I find so appealing in this imagery (not get it on romanticism, but the sort of dazzling fall into yourself conceptual romanticism of heightened senses and awareness, of contrast and contact and daydreams).
I'd love to see snippet fic surrounding this, either fannish or original. Tiny moments of a scene that seems both unreal and delirious and yet very, very tangible. Moments that make you want to press against someone, see your breath on cold glass. C'mon folks, it's spring and I'm oddly missing snow while the rest of you are waving goodbye to it. Work with me here.
When she tells me this, I suggest that while she doesn't want to be last in the queue, she also may not want to be first. After all, what if he's not a morning person. She may want him to warm up first on someone else. She pauses and says, "Well, that's true. For instance, if it were you operating, I definitely wouldn't want you to do it first thing in the morning." My mother, she knows me far too well. Anyone who's spent time with me in the morning knows it is not my preferred milieu. Hussy gatherings here or on the East Coast are always categoriezed by, "Okay, who's going to get Thea coffee so she'll get her ass out of bed."
I took my nap (ah, naps, how I missed you in the throes of my Sudafed addiction!!) to Murder on the Orient Express yesterday, waking up when Hercule Poirot is in mid-investigation and the train is stopping in this snowy nowhere and it's just so utterly romantic. Snow, expanses of nothingness, an elegant train. I have a secret fondness for being warm and wrapped while the world outside is white and stark and daunting. And yes, I also have a not-so secret fondness for Doctor Zhivago for the same reason. But there is a romanticism that I find so appealing in this imagery (not get it on romanticism, but the sort of dazzling fall into yourself conceptual romanticism of heightened senses and awareness, of contrast and contact and daydreams).
I'd love to see snippet fic surrounding this, either fannish or original. Tiny moments of a scene that seems both unreal and delirious and yet very, very tangible. Moments that make you want to press against someone, see your breath on cold glass. C'mon folks, it's spring and I'm oddly missing snow while the rest of you are waving goodbye to it. Work with me here.
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Date: 2006-03-31 06:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-03-31 07:00 pm (UTC)I have a secret fondness for being warm and wrapped while the world outside is white and stark and daunting.
I have a definite fondness for that kind of thing, too... but I have difficulty writing it with any real degree of realism, given that I've been to the snow twice in my life, and the snow was so thin that I actually ended up skiing over rocks on more than one occasion. *g* It's something sadly lacking in my life -- not just the snow and cold, but the entire atmosphere that goes with it.
On the other hand, I've never had to shovel a driveway. *g*
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Date: 2006-03-31 07:09 pm (UTC)Be grateful for this:) The first 10 minutes are exhilierating. It goes rapidly downhill after that.
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Date: 2006-03-31 07:16 pm (UTC)1995, Friuli-Venezia-Giulia
Date: 2006-03-31 10:31 pm (UTC)Down in the valley, in the village - below the gorge, above the plain, surrounding the hills that were thick with oak and chestnut, fox and deer, and would, with the spring, errupt in strawberries, tiny and tasting of ryegrass - in the village it was grey and low sky and scattered flakes that never touched the ground. There, winter was misery and gloom.
But here - five hundred feet, seven meandering miles, and half the afternoon - here the snow had settled in with a purpose, knee deep on the trail, blanketing the firs, making the forest silent and strange.
The dog - South-bred as I, thin coat and lean legged - wore herself into exhaustion. Burrowing, dancing, leaping, sprinting - finding one fir branch that would wave when buffetted free of its snow burden, it would only serve if the remainder of the grove was in motion as well. Two waxwings suffered her to harry them once, then retreated to steeper slopes.
Two hours up, another two down, the last way in darkness on slick roads. It was worth it, for the forty minutes that was her first snow.
***
Thank you, for letting me remember this
Re: 1995, Friuli-Venezia-Giulia
Date: 2006-03-31 10:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-03-31 11:01 pm (UTC)and you're so right about being warm and cozy inside while the world vanishes into snow with periodic outlines of buildings and trees.
our first pony (merlin) used to roll in the snow. so when we were out riding bareback in the winter he'd stick his snow in the snow, and just flop over. the trick was to get off his back before he rolled. and then back on before he got up. the other trick was to encourage him to actually get back up rather than just lolling about in the snow. heh.