Pea soup without the comfort
I walked Arlene before it was light this morning, cloaked by dense fog, and I felt a sense of urgency to slow down.
The holiday season is here – I’ve barely listened to my Christmas music, although I’ve been lighting the menorah every night. I didn’t go to the lighting in Jackson Square. I missed the carroling at the Cavalry Church on Saturday evening.
This next week promises to be busy with reports coming in and preparation for the new year. My office is closed from the 22nd till the 2nd, but it seems like that time always flies by since it is chocked full of catching up on personal and social agenda items. I’m just looking forward to not having to check email at 6AM or 10PM and every time in between. Or make sure I have my cellphone embedded in my ear. I need a consumer electronic vacation.
There are so many movies I want to see – I still haven’t seen hunky Denzel in Deja Vu, there is also The Queen, The History Boys, Babel – all sorts of movies I’d love to see on the big screen. Then there are several hundred I want to rent and even one that L lent me that I want to see again, and haven’t.
I envision a year where my DVR is working and I can have TV night – as it is right now, the TV hasn’t been on in a month. Also, I want to take a two-hour bath in my oversized tub, with bubbles and candles and music, and I want to come out looking like a prune. At some point, I want to plant a seedling in my yard and start nurturing it along the seasons. Then I want my friends over to eat food I’ve prepared and to sit on one of the porches and lolly gag away the evening. All this I want the New Year to bring – I want to put an end to house terrors, bad mojo, and chasing my tail.
The fog was so thick this morning, just like pea soup. Janet, my neighbor at the Can, came by walking Sunny, the big white dog she rescued post-K. I was feeling otherworldly as I negotiated the bayou without actually seeing it. She said, “I hate this weather.” I told her it makes for beautiful days. She said, “But the mornings are awful with this fog, and it’s wet.”
It comes down to this – we view the world through our own distorted lens – fog is either beautiful or awful – it all depends on who is doing the looking.