same old, same old....

I just had the blinding thought that it would be great to be able to "refresh" myself instantly like my computer does. I love that little cyber-shiver the screen gives and wha-bam! new mail and a fresher take on the whole thing.

Yeah, that's what I need! A refreshed approach to my "quotidienne". As the holidays approach, I have desparately wanted to do something completely unlike all the other Christmas days I have spent, which are so steeped in tradition that, unless you look carefully to see that I am wearing a different red sweater in the photos, you would swear every Christmas picture was taken all on one day. Same food, same ornaments, same, same, same....

This year I dreamed of basking on a beach eating a cheeseburger and watching the sun set over the Keys. What am I doing? Looking for a new red sweater!

And it's not just the holidays. After a dozen years on my own, and twenty years in the same job, I often feel like a hamster on a wheel. I do it, I hate it, but I am so afraid that if I step off, I'll get splattered against the walls of my cage.

By the way, the cage is one I made myself. I know that. Its walls are made of fear. The ceiling is low-hanging lack of confidence.

I have made a million resolutions over the years, and broken all of them. This year I plan to amend my brother's standing resolution of "just do better" and give myself permission to do more, do it differently, and do everything better.

And yes, I do want fries with that cheeseburger.

beautiful danger

It is 6 a.m. and raining hard here in Mass. It is cold enough that all the trees and even the lawns are coated with ice. It looks like a crystal palace world, but there is a dangerous downside. Everywhere are branches and twigs, snapped off the trees by the enormous weight of the ice. Outside a few minutes ago with my dog, I listened to loud cracks as huge limbs tore away and then crashed to the ground. Inside now and cozy, in the early morning dark and calm, I can still hear those cracking sounds in the woods that fringe my yard. I hold my breath each time, hoping that a tree will not fall close enough to crush my little house.

Later, I will take my camera and try to capture the beauty of the crystalline world. That beauty can be made more intense when accompanied by a true sense of danger is a very interesting idea. Most of the time, danger is an abstract in the buttoned-down lives we live. It is experienced vicariously in novels or TV dramas. Most days I experience nothing more dangerous than the potential for a paper cut.

For now, I will continue listening to the insistent chatter of the icy rain and the low whirling howl of the wind, and to the sharp and tearing cracks of falling trees and heavy limbs. I'm safe and warm and dry, for now.