in the icy world

Last night I scaled the snowy heights of Prospect Hill without slipping once. Everything was iced and I felt like a pioneer as I wandered the silent world, trudging across bridges and fields and placing my footprints next to the tracks of dogs, birds and cars. During the day melting ice had made the trees crackle like paper. But it was cold enough again at night that everything was still and my legs in tights were two popsicles. It's been a long time since I've wandered alone after dark in snow that clean.

In an odd and fun piece of news, The Hartford Courant has nominated my mother as a finalist for letter to the editor of the year. We tried to figure out whether it was for her letter scolding them for their ethnocentric take on housing paint colors, or whether it was for her letter recommending Slim Whitman as a solution to the ubiquitous "loitering teens" problem. More information as it rolls in.

My friends are lovely writers. At the reading last night P read poems as beautiful as she, and V's bank robbery story held me in its thrall until the final, explosive and emotional ending. Marzipan is divine. I watched a cat and dog mate. I also picked up some terminology I really wish had stayed outside the purview of my knowledge. No, don't ask. I'm protecting your tender ears.

Oh, and in case Jamil called you, I have my phone back. No worries. Just one more petit adventure.