Happy Twinkletree, Joyous Monkey
If the sun came out, all the trees would be twinkling with ice.
Seattle has the snow chaos. It’s like one of those colds that never quite goes away, except that instead of snot, the city’s nose is dripping slush and ice. My neighborhood is tucked in behind a couple of steep hills and apparently not top on the list for the city’s 27 plows; bus service around here has been completely cancelled except for an occasional, limping #48. There’s nothing to do but loll about, drinking mug after mug of hot cocoa and building snowpersons on the porch.
Does rolling down your car window and yelling “Yeah, we’re not gonna let this goddamned snow win, fucking snow goddamn shit motherfucker” as you fishtail past pedestrians count as a neighborly greeting?
(I’m going to attempt an Internet sabbath for Christmas – with limited exceptions for looking up hot cocktail recipes – so your comments may be stuck in moderation for a few days. If you’re jonesing for more instant gratification from your Internets during the christian holidays, well, at least you’re not a dinosaur. Happy monkey, everyone!)