xaara

After due consideration, I'm dropping out of

spn_j2_bigbang. What with all the rest of the writing I have to do over the next few weeks (papers, exams, sample columns for a newspaper position I'm applying for), I just don't have the time to do my story justice or to work productively with a beta reader.

Which is not to say I won't complete and post my story eventually; it'll probably just take another month or so. I love the idea of bigbang. It just turned out to be the wrong timing for me this year. I hope it turned out to be the right timing for a bunch of other people because I'm selfish like that.

I went out to the lake today to talk to some fishermen for my ethnography and ended up being adopted by Rufus, Larry, Willy, and Mark, who insisted that I get a fishing license so I could join them on future trips and extracted a promise of lasagna for some undetermined future Sunday morning. The five of us fished (well, they fished and I watched) for about five hours before wandering over to the May Day celebration in a nearby pavilion and eating the hippies' bratwurst. It was excellent. I have a sunburn across my nose and the tops of my cheeks that's going to hurt like hell tomorrow.

The Boy will be back tomorrow from a trip with his father. I'm looking forward to seeing him and trading stories, since I'm sure his vacation was amazing and there's been a lot of work!drama in his absence.

Life is beautiful right now, and is looking to get more so as the winter cascades into spring: eighty-degree blue sky days and frat boys emerging noisily from their hibernation like cicadas seeking the sun.

ETA: I bought a cactus! I forgot about that. He's tiny and adorable. His name is Hjörleif, and I'll have pictures up as soon as my camera's batteries recharge.

The church bells toll six o'clock. I saw the sun rise this morning, shivering on the front stoop with a good friend while the smoke from his cigarette grayed the air. Sometimes the sun rises and it's just a sunrise, just light coming over the horizon. Sometimes the sun rises and it's a miracle.

I woke to the afternoon sun warm on the back of my neck, rose and made scones with walnuts and maple syrup. When they crumbled, they smelled like warmth, like comfort, like the song of the long summer day.

I wore a skirt with no stockings, paused to photograph a group of northern Italians who grinned at me from their position in front of the capitol building, arms looped over their friends' shoulders. Three, two, one, click. No, no, prego, di niente. Sì, frequento l'università qui a Madison. È veramente una città carina, no?

This place feels like home for the first time in ages, feels like somewhere I might like to spend the lazy wonderful summer. I can't wait until the semester is over. I can't wait until I have time to make breakfast. I can't wait until the farmers' market opens again, until I can rise at six on Saturdays and feel the pull of the morning in my stretching thighs.

There is sun outside my window. Right now. Dappling the trees, melting the snow, bouncing from car to car to car.

Yes.

If anyone is curious as to how cold it is here in Madison, Wisconsin, here's a clue:

VERY

However, that means I made the cover story of the Daily Cardinal, one of the student newspapers, by being in the right place at the right time and by fucking freezing. That picture of the person who is completely covered except for her eyes? Yes. That's me. *waves*

(Incidentally, that's the hat I just finished knitting, and it kept my ears nice and toasty.)

It's so incredibly beautiful outside right now. I always forget how much I love Wisconsin in the winter.

A tree at the end of Henry St., just before it dead-ends into Lake Mendota.

( more under here )

It's snowed probably four inches since last night and the plow has not been past on either of the streets that intersect at our corner. This does not bode well for my wading to work. It's strange, though--usually, as soon as I see a flake of snow, I also hear that grating, grinding sound of the plows getting to work. Come on, Madison, I know it hasn't snowed much this winter, but still. You're falling down on the job.

I am the only one awake in the apartment, mostly because I can't ever sleep more than seven hours at a stretch. I suppose that's not technically accurate--The Cat is also awake, and doesn't seem to realize that she won't fit on my lap with my laptop and recharging mp3 player. Right now, having given up her attempts to nudge my laptop off me, she's sulking on the futon, paws curled under, staring at me. I honestly have no idea why she decided to claim me out of the three of us, but she's forever climbing onto chairs with me and into bed with me and curling around my legs when I'm trying to get ready to go out. And she's a big girl. She was morbidly obese when her original owners surrendered her to the Humane Society, and although she's lost eight pounds under her foster caretaker, she's still pretty massive. She's gorgeous, though, grey and white and this strange shade of peachy beige that I don't think I've ever seen on a cat before.

Something about the snow makes me feel very quiet. It makes me feel like this, a song by David Berkeley called Fire Sign. I want to stand in a wide open field, nothing but my footprints in the white, and close my eyes. I think I'll walk down to the lake in a few minutes and just watch the snow fall for a while. It's a perfect calm.

Dear Weather Gods,

I could see my breath this morning. That is not okay. Also it makes my coffee cold while I'm walking to class, meaning I have to start carrying a thermos instead of my travel mug. See above re: not okay. My blazer no longer keeps me warm, even with the addition of a scarf and fingerless gloves. Say it with me now: not. okay.

Not that I don't love fall or winter. And not that I don't love the cold. But seriously? It's not even October yet. I should not have to wear my long pea coat. I should not have to be digging out my wool socks. My hats should not have to see the light of day for at least another month.

I would appreciate it very much if you would give the Thermometer a good thump for me. In the direction of the upper sixties. Possibly mid-sixties. Okay, so maybe even low sixties.

I am willing to negotiate on these points. Which is more than I would be willing to allow anyone else who deliberately or negligently caused my coffee to become tepid and undrinkable.

Please respond ASAP.

Best Regards,
Carmen

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May 2010

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