I finally went to see the ice on the Fenway, having only seen the park in the dark for the last month. Wednesday evening, I slogged home through the 4-6" deep puddles of slush, avoiding it by taking the bus, then staying home, since.
Not exaggerating to call it an ice rink. The path was churned half ice, half ice water and grit. Safer, more solid at least, to the side. The 'snow' covered, as if by a tough plastic coat of ice, any foot prints would have been from Wednesday, since my full weight made no impression. More water means more free water for the ducks, at least. Compare.
5 comments:
Zhoen. Well enough now to bundle up and grab the camera. Good. Even writing about flu, your entries are always worth reading.
A while back, you called someone else a "real" writer.
It's been bugging me ever since and so here (where it is completely out of context)I want to tell you that you are a real writer. Publishing doesn't make you real. Writing does.
And you write beautifully.
Ten minute walk. That was the extent of my energy, but it felt so good.
Allow me to define. A Writer is someone who someone else is willing to pay to write more.
I'm learning, practicing, honing skill. I get to reserve the term Writer for when I meet that goal. I have too many friends who have earned the right to call themselves Author, and I will not jump the line. Not fair.
But thanks for the shove, I really need to get back to the editing on CF. Maybe I'll be clear headed enough tomorrow to do more than little posts.
All that lj said :)
I am not impressed by this snowfall - it being the quality of the snow that impresses me, rather than the quantity. Your snow demonstrates many clear signs of being uneducated and impolite, such as wearing hooded sweatshirts and saying 'f' instead of 'th'.
Pacian,
Too true. I would have preferred a foot of real snow as well. Vermont got that.
Post a Comment