Another round

Today I have another job interview. This afternoon. I am hoping that it doesn't snow before that- it's supposed to- because this place gets scary when it snows. I can handle snow driving. It's the others who worry me. And we live on a very steep hill, and I'm pretty sure I wouldn't get up it if it gets very slick.

I was thinking about the whole snow thing. What I don't miss is the nasty cold. And shovelling. We had a long sidewalk in Bozeman, and it had lots of foot traffic, so we had to shovel often. The city would cite us if we didn't- the bastards. That wet, heavy snow was the worst of it.

But there is something magical about snow at night. In Missoula I lived near a park with lots of old Maple trees. The lights at night would create these orange-tinged halos around the trees. On snowy nights, it would get quiet. Muffled. I would walk to the park, and stand there under the trees and watch the snow fall. It would be so quiet I could hear the flakes hitting the ground beneath me. It was so hushed. I felt like I was alone in the world, and it was ok.

Then no doubt, I would get very wet and cold and have to go home and quit being silly in the snow. The best was walking home from school when I was little, though. What doesn't seem like lots of snow now that I'm a tall girl was pretty deep when I was 6. I would roll in it, and jump in it, and basically make a huge mess in people's very sculpted sidewalks along the way home. It usually took me twice to three times longer to walk home, because there was so much to divert my attention. Bright, shiny things have always distracted me. I also loved to eat the snow. Not the dry stuff- it's icky. But the wet melting snow that makes perfect iceballs was the best. I was a regular connoseur.

And I used to ski. It has been well over 15 years since I've done that- kind of a bummer really. But I'm sure my knees are thankful. They were really starting to suffer. I was never all that good, and the equipment back in the day was pretty unforgiving. I just liked to go really fast down the hill. Sort of out of control. But it was fun. I was too scared to really get good at it- never could take the proper chances, and never really learned to control the momentum. I was also too bloody lazy to approach it from the right level of fitness. This was before I was diagnosed with the exercise induced asthma- so running was really painful, and I avoided it.

I don't plan on getting back into the skiing thing at this late date, but it's fun to remember. And hope that the snow here waits until tomorrow. Then Kenga will take a snow day, and we can watch movies. I have a few more spaghetti westerns keyed up on the tivo, along with Yojimbo, and a couple of 30's gangster flics. He oughta enjoy at least one of those! Maybe. I think he's getting very sick of my western phase. Who can blame him. I plan on starting up with musicals next (see the earlier post to that effect), and he will then long for the days of westerns. Ah, sweet, sweet nostalgia.