Odd Sightings

Today while driving to and from school I saw:

a red-tailed hawk, ruffling its feathers in a tree
three cars in the breakdown lane spaced evenly 100 feet apart, lights flashing; no humans
a wolf, dead on the side of the road

I am pretty sure it was a wolf, even if I keep doubting myself. I keep thinking, "No. Really? A WOLF?" But yes. I saw its teeth, shiny and white, gleaming in rows from its pointed snout. And it was big! Bigger than a coyote. I feel sad for whomever hit it; I've never seen one alive.

Life Wisdom

Regina Spektor, sage of the modern age:

This is how it works
You're young until you're not
You love until you don't
You try until you can't
You laugh until you cry
You cry until you laugh
And everyone must breathe
Until their dying breath

No, this is how it works
You peer inside yourself
You take the things you like
And try to love the things you took
And then you take that love you made
And stick it into some
Someone else's heart
Pumping someone else's blood
And walking arm in arm
You hope it don't get harmed
But even if it does
You'll just do it all again

-From Regina Spektor's "On the Radio"

Gangly Girl

The wool winter coat designers of the world would have me believe that I am the most oddly-shapen woman ever to walk the earth. I must have tried on over 30 coats this weekend, finding only that those that fit my slim torso had arms far too short, and those long enough in the arm were wider than a house on me. Good lord. Can't a tall girl catch a break?

Anyone else have issues like these and have any suggestions? I considered getting one tailored, but my local tailor is booked over three weeks out, and people, it's cold outside. I'm looking for a three-quarter length single breasted black wool coat with no fancy bells or whistles. I'm not a toggle or military pocket kind of girl, and I feel a bit obtuse in anything resembling a belt. Please, spare me. Keep it simple and keep me warm. Those are my requirements.

Oh. And? Sale items are my friends.

Ideas, anyone?

Sleds of Glory

Here are a couple videos of us making the most of the snowiest winter ever in New Hampshire. I spotted this killer sledding hill weeks ago from the other side of the river, and have been eying it ever since. We finally got to check it out today. Here's me, going the distance...going for speed...

Ed got to the bottom of the hill and was bounded upon by some very happy dogs who licked his face. I love the thumbs-up at the beginning of this one, and the ladies hooting and yodeling at their dogs to get them to come back.

On a later run, our beloved snow tube deflated due to an untimely hole in its side. Rest in peace, snow tube. And long live the winter of snowy adventures!

Drumming: 1 to 100

I love this video. It shows people, aged 1 to 100, banging on a drum. It's totally silly, and totally serious, and totally excellent. Watch!

via Electrolicious

Boys Will Be

I was walking around the neighborhood today as school was letting out and saw two boys ahead, snowpants and hats and mitts on and backpacks half the size of them, walking home from school together. After a few steps they stopped, faced each other, and started wrestling. They disappeared behind the crest of a hill and as I reached the top, I found them lying in a pile on the sidewalk. I crossed the street, wanting to watch rather than disrupt whatever they were doing. As I approached them they got up and continued walking, side by side, up the sidewalk. As I passed them they stopped and turned to face each other again. One held out his hand as if to say, "Wait. Okay," and then they tackled each other again. They both rolled, wriggling and struggling, into the snowbank and then fell still and broke apart again.

I think they were practicing, pretending for the sake of honing their skills and tuning their reflexes. I think they are boy-warriors in the making.

To Do in Oh-Eight

Intentions rather than resolutions; for now, not for the year; for good reminders rather than measures of success. These are the things I'm trying for:

Think before you speak
Ask more questions
Don't talk about things you don't know about
Keep making peace with what ails you
Take yourself less seriously
Laugh more, and more easily
Stop saying 'fuck'

That last one is the easiest to measure. Tehee.

Ketchup

I swear the holidays came and went and I barely had time to blink, and suddenly we're halfway through January and vacation never felt much like the one I'd imagined as I trudged my way towards it, through exams and final papers and the snowstorms of December. Partly I think it's that the holidays don't ever feel like I expect them to anymore, like I remember them feeling when I was a kid. Endless, magical, glittering days of sledding and skating and early morning cartoons, and the unbearable anticipation of Christmas day and Santa's arrival. It's trite and tried but it seems true; something happens. We get older and focus more on the stress and the plans than the simple joy of the season. I won't say I miss it; I'm more for looking forward than looking back. I'll just say I think it's sort of sad, the way things change.

What stands out, though, is that in spite of feeling constantly busy over the last few weeks, my brain heaved a sigh of relief and spent some quiet moments untangling some things, some things that have been tied in knots for more than a little while. I imagine that as we inched down the Jersey turnpike or rattled across the Charles or slushed toward Burlington, my head and my heart had a little rendez-vous and maybe began to see eye to eye. Because now, as work and school and life begin again, I am new. I'm seeing things from a bird's eye view, seeing myself from a little more distance and claiming and naming the demons that haunt the back of my skull and whistle when the wind blows.

I've felt recently like there's a battle going on inside my head, and I am fighting both sides. It's a fight over who and what I want to be, of growing up and what that means, of personal style and how it defines us, what to eat and what to buy and what needs fixing and what needs leaving alone. I am constantly conflicted, never sure what I really think or want, and afraid in some ways not to live according to my own deliberate choices. This is, perhaps, exactly what it means to be twenty-five. And while I don't love it, I'm trying to be patient, trying to love the questions themselves, in true Rilke fashion.

And maybe, just maybe, while I'm busy doing other things, my head and my heart will rendez-vous without me and begin figuring some of this stuff out too.