A History of Snow

Was Curious George playing in it?  Didn't Burt and Ernie go skiing?  Larry and Balki did.

"There...if you look closely, you can see it on top of the mountain.  See there?  And those dark shapes there?  Those are elk or moose.  Yes, like Bullwinkle.  No, it's too hot back home."

"No, this is sleet."

"No, I'm telling you, it was a flurry!  I swear!"  I didn't believe her.  Plus, I was too worried about those high school exams to care.

"I never want to see the stuff.  Grew up in Florida and I'm going to Arizona State for college and then on to Hollywood."

1997 I arrive in Chicago, much different than Tempe.

He was blowing leaves as the cold wind gusted down Kenmore.  He smiled at me with his toothy, wicked grin.  "Here it comes, boy!"  A wave of fear and nausea rushed through me, starting at the mouth and exiting out of my ass.

Again on Kenmore.  "What is this?  Is someone burning something?  Is this ash?  Wait...is this?  Is this it?  Wow!"  I stood at the window in the lobby and stared at it like a fool, gaping in amazement.  The others rolled their eyes and lamented the end of autumn and the beginning of a long Chicago winter.  I doubt anyone thought I was adorable.

He laughed and pushed her in the yellow patches as she screamed.  In the summer, he would push her in the grass and she only giggled until he reminded her of winter's yellow.  "It's still there, you know."

She loved it, would kick a chunk of it and stomp it to oblivion.  That's how I knew I was in love with her.

She hated it and asked, "what is this?  I mean, I know what it is, but come on..."  That's how I knew I was in love with her.

We made a corpse out of it in a baseball field in Grant Park.  Later that day a beluga whale spit on me.  I held her hand but didn't kiss her, like we were children.  I was never in love with her.

I had to be there at five in the morning.  I shoveled the doorway and a path to the intersection.  Quitting felt so good.

I slipped and fell backwards.  I just stayed on the ground, feeling it lightly fall on my face.  It felt good to rest on the sidewalk like that.  Eventually a woman walked by and said, "oh my!  Are you alright?"  I assured her I was, but I wasn't quite ready to move yet.  "I thought you were a dog from back there."

"Hold my mitted fist!"  She made me laugh when she said that.  She moved so quickly in it.  Later, when it was ending, she told me we moved at different speeds.  I thought maybe she was referring to foot speed, but...no...probably not.  It's ok.  I was never in love with her.

It was the biggest blizzard in Chicago in years.  I can't remember, but I most likely drank through it.  I was alone, staring out of the window at it all, wishing it were worse.  Or better, depending on your point of view.

They said it would be the winter that would make us all want to move.  It was the most mild winter in years.  You couldn't ever get me to move anyway.

I was feeling better than I had in possibly years.  I loved the way the ice cracked under my feet.  I loved how untouched it was.  I loved the screaming geese and ducks that refused to leave Chicago in the winter...just like me.  I found warmth in the conservatory and smiled, smiled, smiled...

I came home grinning like some goofball.  I heard a bird chirping and asked her why in hell she was acting like it was spring.  She didn't have an answer.  I went upstairs and made dinner.  I looked out of my window and watched it come down, as it had been coming down all day, with such endurance.  I decided to write about my history with the stuff from as far back as I could remember.  And while it feels like it has lost its value over the years, I also understand there are memories with it that have not yet been made.  It will be valuable again, I'm sure.

Stay warm, stay dry, and thanks for reading.  I'll talk to you later.

Only 364 More Days Until Valentine's Day!

Hey there.  How you doin'?  God damn you're looking good...

So...how excited are you?  Hm?  It's coming up, isn't it?  It's right around the corner, huh?  Yeah...I bet you're so excited you can hardly control yourself...I can see the way you're looking at me right now...all intense, trembling slightly, that mean look on your face like you're just going to throw me down on the bed and have your way with me...

That's what usually happens to a woman when Valentine's Day is right around the corner.  And I can't wait either, baby.  Only 364 more days until we get to celebrate that special day together...only 364 more days until Valentine's Day...

I know, my darling, last year I forgot.  But the past is in the past and here we are today, a brand new day, with Valentine's Day just staring at us 364 short days away.  Before you know it, it will be only 284 days away.  And then 212 days.  In the blink of an eye it will be 179 days away.  I'd better start looking for reservations now, huh?!

What's that?  What's that you say?  Yesterday?  Sweetie, our lives are filled with yesterdays.  Don't get hung up on yesterdays.  Focus on tomorrow (when it will be 363 short days until Valentine's Day).  I used to live life looking backwards too, honey, but now I'm looking straight ahead...

What's that?  How could I forget what?  I haven't forgotten anything...I'm telling you...it's only 364 days away!  Think about that.  Your boyfriend knows exactly how many days there are until Valentine's Day.  How many of your lady friends can say that?  That they have a boyfriend wonderful enough to know exactly how many days there are until Valentine's Day?  I'll tell you how many...that's a number that's easy to count...zero.

What was I doing last night?  Wouldn't you rather know what we are doing tonight?  Guess.  I'll give you a hint.  It rhymes with "mitza and a boovie."  Oh, and a 24 pack of "Mudweiser" so we can get nice and "brunk."

I'm sorry?  Who saw me where?  With who?  I'll one-up you...who are you with right now?  Me!  That's right!  The greatest boyfriend in the world!  Oh, my sweet little confused Valenti- whoops!  Shouldn't get ahead of myself!

Well, anyway, I'm pretty tired...I didn't get a lot of sleep last night.  I'm gonna catch a few winks before we watch our "boovie" so wake me when the "mitza" gets delivered.

363 and a half days until Valentine's Day!  Seriously...how much do you love me!  Oh, and could you drop for the "mitza," babe?  I'm tapped out.

***********************************

Thanks for reading, everyone.  That was just a little piece I wrote a few years ago and sort of changed around a little bit.  I might do that from time to time.  Look for me to get back to the magic next time.  Thanks again, have a great weekend, and I'll talk to you later.

The Canary Flaxseed Story

Say hello to your mother for me.

I'm sorry, I'm nervous.  And when I get nervous, I get mean.

Here's the story.

Her name was Canary Flaxseed.  Ok, obviously her name wasn't actually Canary Flaxseed, but I thought I'd use a fictional name that closely resembles her real name.  Now that I've got that established...

Her name was Canary Flaxseed.  She was 15.  So was I.  We were high school freshmen.  Everyone was in love with Canary Flaxseed.  The boys all wanted to be with Canary Flaxseed, and the girls...well the girls were glad they weren't Canary Flaxseed because 15 year old boys are gross and ridiculous.

Yes, we were all boys and girls.  All of us, that is, except Canary Flaxseed.  She was a woman.  With the body of a woman.  And she was a dancer.  I like dancers, always have.

So everyone loved Canary Flaxseed, everyone lusted after Canary Flaxseed...everyone, that is, except for me.  And do you know why?  It's because I'm an individual, it's because I'm an independent thinker, it's because I don't follow the crowd...

I was madly in love with Canary Flaxseed.

I went to great lengths to be Canary Flaxseed's best friend.  Best friend!  Friends, we were friends, yes, friends...we hung out all the time!  We were study partners, we played tennis together, tennis.

We were friends.

So even when Maxwell Boulevard (not a real name) pulled me aside and said, "so I hear Canary Flaxseed has a huge crush on you," I didn't let it bother me.  I didn't let it affect me.  I said, "nah...we're just friends."

I went to her house in Gobbler's Cove (not a real place) and there she made me cornbread.  She made me cornbread.  And she fed it to me...with her hand!  Into my mouth!  Do you understand?  Do you understand how sensual that is?  To feed somebody with your hand?  Into their mouth?  Cornbread?  It's the most sexual oven baked good there is!  She fed me cornbread with her hand into my mouth!

So I made up my mind...I had to ask Canary Flaxseed out on a date.  What are we going to do on this date?  I don't know, I'm 15, I don't have a car, I can't drive; I'll worry about that later...

We had a study group.  It was me, Canary Flaxseed, my friend Wolf Jones (not a real name), and Canary's friend Spuds Forest (nope).  Now, Spuds...she had these insane feet.  She could staple things with them, she could eat an apple with them...one time she was sitting behind Maxwell Boulevard in geometry class and Maxwell suddenly began to feel one of the most amazing neck massages he had ever received.  It was Spuds' feet!  She was giving him a neck massage, a solid one, with her damn feet!  They were just like hands, these feet.

So anyway, we were at the library, and Canary and Spuds were talking about some guy named Sploodge (it was actually Robbie).  I had heard the two of them mention this Sploodge guy before and it was never good.  Apparently, Sploodge had called Canary the night before around midnight and wouldn't get off the phone until two in the morning.  "What an idiot," says Canary.  "I know, right?  What a tool," says Spuds.

So I turn to the two of them and I say, "wow, this Sploodge sounds like a real douche bucket."

"That's Canary's boyfriend," said Spuds.  She actually signed it to me with her insane hands feet.

I was devastated.  Absolutely crushed.  My eyes welled up with tears.  You can't hide that shit; she noticed.  I tried to play it off..."oh, that's cool.  Yeah, far out...word...neato mosquito..."  I spanned three decades of general agreement slang.

As we were leaving the library, Canary pulled me aside and said, "hey, you look a little bummed."  Isn't that sad?  Isn't that pathetic?  I wanted her to say, "Sploodge means nothing to me, it's you!  It's always been you!  I'm in love with you!"

No.  "Hey, you look a little bummed.  Is everything alright?  Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Yeah, say hello to your mother for me!"

I didn't say that.  I told her I was tired.

Not too long after that, Canary Flaxseed moved.  She went to a different school.  We lost touch.

As coincidence would have it (or as magic would have it), Canary and I ended up both moving up to Chicago for college.  Well, I attended college, she joined a professional dance troop in Evanston.  We reconnected and I went up there to visit her.  I had dinner with her and her mother.  I had met her mother before...wonderful woman.  Always laughed at my jokes.  We hung out a few times in my freshman year.  By my sophomore year, we had lost touch again.

Then, halfway through that second year of college, I had an intense dream about Canary.  And the night after that, another vivid dream about her.  I wrote in my journal at the time that I felt I would be back in contact with Canary again soon and, wouldn't you know it, the guy who had my old dorm phone number from the year before came up to me and said, "some girl named Canary Flaxseed called for you.  I wrote her number down but I put it in my jeans and now those jeans are in the wash."

"You get me that number."

And so I got the number.  We spoke, Canary and I, over the phone for eight hours.  Eight...all night long.  She had been dating one of the Northwestern football coaches or something insane like that.  I was single.

Sadly, we fell out of touch once again after that.

Years later, when it became easy to stalk people on the internet, she found me.  She was married and living in Orlando.  She had her own dance company now.  She looked great, judging by the online pictures of her.  She wrote me a very sweet message, one filled with the stars of youth and the dreams we lose in the shadows like runaway ghosts...

"OMG, lol!  How r u?!  How's Chicago?  Cold enough for you?!  lmao!  You look great!  KIT."

I wrote her back.

"So good to hear from you.  Hey, you're married!  Chicago is great, I'm doing well.  You know, I had the biggest crush on you back in high school.  I miss you.  Your husband's a real lucky guy.  You probably make him real happy.  Take care.  I wish you all the best.  And say hello to your mother for me."

Thanks everyone.  Have a great weekend, I'll talk to you later.