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Why Snow Isn't Beautiful
Dec. 6th, 2019 09:11 amI have decided to forgive Max.
After all, forgiveness only enhances the luster of the crown I’ll wear in heaven, right? And propels me to the first rank of paragons of maternal self sacrifice like Mother Machree, Mother Courage, and Joan Crawford.
As a sign of my renewed maternal love, I gave Max the password to my Criterion movie account.
Robin took some good photos of me-e-e-e-e-e! (He has a fabulous camera eye.)
Well. I guess somebody else took that first one. But with his camera.
I took this cozy domestic shot:
I almost beat Max! But in the end, the value of my extra tiles had to get subtracted from my score, so I lost by three.
“Nobody beats Max at Scrabble,” MaryAnn told me grimly. “I refuse to play with him anymore.”
###
I should probably write up the trip adventures at greater length because otherwise I’ll forget them, but that’s not gonna be today and that’s not gonna be tomorrow either.
My jet-lagged sleep cycle is still very weird. I keep waking up after fabulous cascading dreams and thinking, I should write this down! And then falling back to sleep before I can.
It’s very grey and bleak outside. Everything covered under 10 inches of snow.
I know most people think snow is beautiful, but I think snow loans a discouraging ubiquity to the landscapes it covers. When it’s covered with snow, every single thing looks the same; there’s no individuality, no unique quirks.
After all, forgiveness only enhances the luster of the crown I’ll wear in heaven, right? And propels me to the first rank of paragons of maternal self sacrifice like Mother Machree, Mother Courage, and Joan Crawford.
As a sign of my renewed maternal love, I gave Max the password to my Criterion movie account.
Robin took some good photos of me-e-e-e-e-e! (He has a fabulous camera eye.)
Well. I guess somebody else took that first one. But with his camera.
I took this cozy domestic shot:
I almost beat Max! But in the end, the value of my extra tiles had to get subtracted from my score, so I lost by three.
“Nobody beats Max at Scrabble,” MaryAnn told me grimly. “I refuse to play with him anymore.”
###
I should probably write up the trip adventures at greater length because otherwise I’ll forget them, but that’s not gonna be today and that’s not gonna be tomorrow either.
My jet-lagged sleep cycle is still very weird. I keep waking up after fabulous cascading dreams and thinking, I should write this down! And then falling back to sleep before I can.
It’s very grey and bleak outside. Everything covered under 10 inches of snow.
I know most people think snow is beautiful, but I think snow loans a discouraging ubiquity to the landscapes it covers. When it’s covered with snow, every single thing looks the same; there’s no individuality, no unique quirks.
