This will end in tears

Snow is a blanket on the world, and my happiness.  It covers the trees and my ambition. The winter weighs heavy on my emotions like the blankets on my bed that try to keep me  inert,  still,  and lifeless under cover. I hibernate and dream of spring.

When I was growing up and going to college in Western and Central Pennsylvania, it was not uncommon to see railroad boxcars occasionally dotting the landscape. I'm not talking about the little red caboose that might sit at an old, defunct railroad terminal in some small town. I'm talking about the big rectangular box cars, usually wooden, with the big sliding doors, sitting on the old rusted frame with metal wheels. And they weren't sitting on some abandoned rail line. Most of the time they were in a field, or a gully along a stream bed, or simply in the yard of some farmhouse. I always thought about "The Boxcar Children" series of books that I read as a child from my elementary school library whenever I would pass one. Another thing that was talked about quite a bit in movies and in the classroom when I was young was the hobo movement. Another societal group living, even temporarily, in boxcars. I used to fantasize about running away and traveling the country as ...

We have a conservatory in Pittsburgh called Phipps Conservatory. It's a large glass structure from the late 1800s. It has around a dozen indoor rooms, each with a theme: palm court, fern room, desert room, tropical room, edible plant room, etc. They do seasonal shows with a variety of themes. I've been a member for many years now and I thoroughly enjoy the serenity and the beauty year round. The outdoor gardens are lovely in the warmer months, and there are always ample photographic opportunities.  That's all. You should visit if you are every in town. 

There was a time after college where I lived in an efficiency apartment in a historic building from around 1900. It had a beautiful facade and an open lobby with a visible staircase and one, narrow elevator. The elevator had an old diamond pattern sliding door that you had to manually open and close. The elevator was very slow - about as slow as taking the stairs. It vibrated enough that it would often cause that gate to open a bit, causing the elevator to stop. You learned to hold a foot against the gate after it was jarred loose and stopped you between floors a few times. The halls were narrow, as were the doors. It has steam heat and radiators that would knock loudly, and on cold nights the regulator valve would hiss like an angry snake or dissatisfied theater goer all night long. The single pane, metal sash, casement windows radiated cold in the winter and let bugs in during the summer due to a lack of screens. The single room had a tiny four burner stove with an oven too small for...

A welcomed respite  From all the pressures of life  A video game Controlling a life Knowing there is a save point Full of adventures Earning achievements Performing heroic acts And fulfilling quests Doing the dishes Doesn't have the same appeal As digital fun

When I was about four years old my divorced mother and I lived in a subsidized apartment complex. There were a bunch of identical three story buildings, each with about a dozen units inside. They were ugly, dark red brick buildings floating in a sea of a blacktop parking lots that surrounded them.  I went walking around the complex one particularly cold Sunday in January, the week before that brought a lot of snow, and someone has made a snowman. The end of the week was sunny and warmer, and most of the snow had melted. The snowman has suffered. He was maybe half of his original size. But the previous night had been very cold so the melting snowman had turned into a block of ice.  The makers had used some sort of faux jewels for eyes, a carrot for a nose, and has wrapped a scarf around his neck. The shiny red eyes and most of the carrot were entombed in the almost transparent head. The eyes glittered in the sun, a tantalizing prize for a young boy. I tried to kick the snowman ...

Random thoughts: Writing every day is not difficult, exactly, but making/finding time is difficult. I think that I need to set an alarm or reminder or something. I'm always doing it just before bed.  Lawsuits suck and the only people who consistently benefit are the lawyers.  I miss having cats.