The Silent Guest
Woke up this day to find a new blanket of white powder covering the walk and yard. When I went to bed last night it wasn’t even snowing. Unlike a good April thunderstorm that announce it’s arrival with pomp and circumstance, the winter storm is more mysterious and silent. It’s always a nice surprise. Everything is quiet again. There is a band of kids in the my alley. Their school must be starting late or not at all. I’m not sure what game they’re playing or if they’re playing an organized game at all. One kid, who is bundled up in a full-length ‘A Christmas Story’ style one-piece snowmobile suit has now been ditched by all the other kids. He’s walking really slowly down the ally looking between each of the houses to try and locate his friends. He takes long pauses and just stares down at his boots that are sunken in the snow. One of the other kids just ran through my yard. The snow deadens the sound of his escape. There goes another one. He runs directly over my flower-bed, where last fall I planted spring bulbs. I wince and hope he doesn’t disturb their hibernation. After wincing I realize I must be getting older. I have a chocolate donut that I’m excited to be eating for breakfast.

Last night I watched the Golden Globes with all the intensity of a good football game. When Bill Murray won I actually jumped out of my chair and made a squeal that was not unlike my response to Nathan Poole’s touchdown catch that sent the Green Bay Packers into the playoffs.

Now I’m procrastinating my work day by looking at old wistling records, other album covers and a collection of television commercials done by American actors for Japanese companies. In just a few minutes I hope to win an eBay bid on a camera lens I have been after for a good long time. John Vanderslice’s new album, ‘Cellar Door’ rocks the hi-fi.