My original plan for the evening was to trek the 10 blocks to Safeway for cream cheese. The prospect of a morning with cream cheeseless bagels was more than I could bear. I put on what can only be described as FOUR LAYERS of clothing, all of which was awesome thanks to the mid-winter trip to Romania in Feb.
The streets were beautiful. So bright and shining, you'd never think it was night. Every couple of blocks I had to just stop and look around. I think it was the Elliot Smith. He was made to serenade a snowy night. On the way back from the store I got lured into Marie and Palindrome's for some Bailey's hot chocolate and a good game of Scrabble. Which I won. This makes me extra awesome since both of them are extraordinarily lingual and literary. I spelled "zee" twice. Clinched it.
The walk home felt too short...even though a light freezing rain begin a gentle assault on my layers. I just wasn't quite ready to go inside. It was too lovely. So I walked across the street to the Pioneer Cemetery.
I have to say, I'm not a religious person, but I appreciate everything it's done for me. Things like The Exorcist and La Sagrada Família. Ave Maria and Ben-Hur. Christmas and gargoyles. And cemeteries. Such lovely cemeteries. There is nothing more beautiful than a tree-filled cemetery a foot deep in snow with no other living thing around. It's enough to inspire a change to my will that would require both cremation and a overly intricately carved headstone with angels and quotes from Shakespeare. It was peaceful and serene. It was cold and a little wet. It was thoughtful and silent. It was almost a perfect night. But I didn't take any pictures. I didn't want to share it. I know, selfish.
Now I must go bathe my face in chapstick.
9 keep(s) me blogging:
Did you just describe a scene from a Frank Capra movie? This could be a life-changing experience, Missy. And a butt-changing one if you keep on eating creme cheese.
You...ENJOYED...the "winter wonderland"?
You and your pointy-toed boots need to be fucking committed.
Oh, instead of chapstick, you could bath your face in cream cheese. I think it has the same balm-y qualities.
You keep on eatıng that cream cheese and you won't really need any extra padding to keep you warm! (From a woman who has eaten plenty in her time and is now slowly clawing it off...)
I love cemeteries too; they're so full of history. Just think: our generation will be one of the first that just disappeared in a puff of smoke, no markers or anything. Our descendants will think they were descended from Victorians and people born in the 40s.
Thank you for taking some of our snow. :) One thing that always gets me is how QUIET it is when there's a lot of snow on the ground. It can be utterly silent. Too bad I have a little club disease (tenitus?) so I can never get away from that faint ringing... or the voices.
I don't know how that would work in a city, though. Does it get quieter there?
There is something to be said about walking, at night, during a snow storm. I love it, and do it every occassions I get, except last night, I felt too warm & comfy to dress up for it. Oh well.
I get that similar cosmic experience you did from your stroll through the snow... but mine comes from warm tropical waves lapping over my ankles as my feet press softly into smooth sand. A Margarita in one hand, a bagel with cream cheese in the other.
Your dad is awesome.
And your mom is damn cool.
That is all.
So, you didn't explain, is this picture your iced window or your face? And I agree, everything looks better with a snow blanket on it, even a cemetery.
That sounds glorious. Especially the impromptu Bailey's & Scrabble party.
Don't let anyone tell you there's fat in cream cheese. It's a conspiracy. It's fat free and they know it. They're just trying to keep it from you & eat it all.
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