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I generally think that meteorologists are akin to the Boy Who Cried Wolf, forever banging on and on about dire climactic conditions that never seem to materialize. Well, I should have believed them today! When I went to work (at about three this afternoon), the roads were clear and things just looked winter-ish.
At least I had the presence of mind to wear my fuzzy little boots! They let me out a half an hour early (at 10pm), and I ventured forth into winter’s raging fury. The weather peeps weren’t fibbing this time – my commute usually takes about twenty minutes ….it took me an hour to get home tonight.
To be honest, I doubted the sanity of choosing to even drive home pretty much the minute I turned out of the parking lot. There was zero visibility, the wind tearing sheets of snow over my windshield and across the roads. I was able to see about five feet in front of my car with any kind of reliability. And when I passed an unsheltered area, that dropped to zero – as though someone dropped a blanket over the windshield blocking out everything.
I inched home, slow and steady, trying my best to stay on the road, avoiding the massive drifts that popped like ninjas out of the swirling darkness. I finally made it back to the city proper, and the streetlights’ glow illuminated the changed world. I muscled my little trooper of a car into the parking garage, and buttoned and zipped and tugged and pulled all my winter gear into place.
And then I stepped out into the maelstrom. It stole my breath, the snow biting my cheeks – tiny razors flung from maddened skies. The drifts on the sidewalks were up past my knees, and I trudged home, marveling at the world gone white and shrouded and mysterious.
It was strange – I felt like the last girl alive. Below the rush of the wind, there was a hush. I’ve never seen the city all buttoned up this way. We live in Wisconsin – snow is par for the course, and we just tend to deal with it. But this? This was the kind of blizzard that I remember being awed by when I read about them in the Little House on the Prairie books. The drift in front of the apartment door was up to my thighs, and I had to kick my way in. It gave me enough time to read the memorandum that someone from the city had posted on the door telling tenants that this was considered a snow emergency, and that all cars must be parked in a lot or be towed, and that to venture out [essentially] was to take your life in your hands.
So, naturally, I skipped upstairs, changed my clothes, grabbed my camera, and went out exploring. I plunged through snow drifts up to my waist, my laughter torn away on the gusting wind. I made it all the way down to the river. The snow softened everything – no straight lines anymore, everything gone fuzzy and obscured. It was a brief reconnaissance – good sense kicked in when I couldn’t feel my hands anymore.
You just gotta have adventures when the opportunity for them drops, literally, onto your doorstep! Enjoy the fruits of my madcap mission!
Hello there, outside world! I’ve been M.I.A. for awhile – I’ve been in the trenches, but in the best possible way! I’ve been engrossed with my newest pursuit – art. (I figured I’d share some of what I’ve been up to on here!)
Don’t think. Thinking is the enemy of creativity. It’s self-conscious, and anything self-conscious is lousy. You can’t try to do things. You simply must do things. (Ray Bradbury)
Last Thursday night, Jeremy arrived home to find the entire kitchen (and other parts of the apartment…) had been colonized by my forays into the artistic realm. I was blaring tango music (courtesy of Dani – thanks, by the way), wearing an intriguing new kerchief on my head to keep my hair out of the gesso, and having an absolutely fabulous time.
He took one look around, smiled, and said, “I’m so glad to see you doing this babe.” It felt good to hear that, and I quickly rescued some of the stuff I was working on from the top of the stove, so that he could make us dinner.
Creativity is allowing yourself to make mistakes. Art is knowing which ones to keep. (Scott Adams)
I was at it until three a.m. Happily, wholly engaged. Completely captured with experimentation and the joy of watching my ideas translated into form.
Creativity is a lot like looking at the world through a kaleidoscope. You look at a set of elements, the same ones everyone else sees, but then reassemble those floating bits and pieces into an enticing new possibility. (Rosabeth Moss Kanter)
I wandered through the house, scouting out things I could “repurpose” (translate: destroy) with impunity, and I tried things, without worrying how they would look or turn out. I just wanted to see what would happen when I went about it in different ways. It was freeing.
Freedom is the oxygen of the soul. (Moshe Dayan)
I’ve been breaking out of my shell, and it feels good. It feels good to play, and to create. It feels good not to hear the voice inside that’s always chiding and scolding.
Tomorrow, I’ll gather up all my tools and toys and go to play across the street with Dani. It’s like an artist’s play date, and I can’t wait! Life is good – and I feel great.