There are so many clues.

Everyday.

Pointing to the fact that it all goes by ever so quickly. That living is like drinking nectar from a glass that empties much faster than we think. And that we can only hope that we have the good sense of enjoying its sweet taste - without guilt, without trepidation - before it is finished, and we will have to put down the empty glass.

I have met a few of those people. In my life. The ones that are awake. That enjoy living life, as it happens to be. They may strive to change it, but they do not spend it mourning over what could have been, or sulking because things are not like they want them to be. They seem to have mastered that balance between indifference and despair. They seem to burn brighter.

My father was one of those people. He had an insatiable lust for life. It was an endless source of amazement and enjoyment for him. It took me more than twenty years to start seeing that. To appreciate this gift of his. And since then I have aspired to do the same. To love. To enjoy. To embrace. To smile. To give warmth. To give. Because you really do choose how you do this. Most of us really are free to live as we please. And I don't mean the jobs that we seek or the schools that we attend, the things that we buy or any of that. I just mean that we can take it, and really choose, for ourselves, what we do with it.

Another sweet soul escaped from her physical cage last night. This lady was also one of those that knew how to live, but was then trapped in a state of decrepitude for years. Now she is at long last free.

I celebrate her life.

So this has been the coldest week of this winter. That is not in dispute. And it may turn out to be the coldest week of the year. Fine. But why is everybody constantly complaining about it? The standard greeting you get at the gym, or the daycare, or almost wherever you go, is "Is it cold enough for ya?" or "Brrr! It's brutal out there!" or "Sweet Jesus, when will this stop?!" Actually, I haven't heard anybody say "Sweet Jesus". I just added that myself. For flair.

But back to the point: I can't fathom why people insist on complaining about this. I mean, it is cold. For sure. But whining about it won't make it go away. If you are cold, add more layers! But that's not even the point. The point is: The weather is not bad. At all. It's BEAUTIFUL! If any of those whiners would stop and look around, they just might catch some of all that beauty: This country does not have that many hot springs. But go down to the river on a really really cold morning, and there will be this mystical heat mist arising gracefully up from it. If you look around you as you drive down the interstate, you can see tiny, wonderous streaks of heat emanating back from the corners of the cars zipping by. And then, a friend of mine pointed out to me, this extreme cold will turn the snow into diamonds! If you go out into one of these moonlight-filled nights we've been enjoying of late, you will find this endless wealth, spread out on the ground all around you.

How can you complain about this miracle, this magic?

And the sad thing is that people here do not just complain about this weather. They complain about all weathers. In the spring, it rains to much. In the summer, it is too hot. And in the fall, the foliage is never as beautiful as it once was.

People! Get a grip! This winter will NEVER, EVER come back. It is leaving. And it is beautiful. So enjoy it!

Basta!

I did not know this. Did you? Maybe it's because it's not correct.

Anyway. Supposedly, the size of the snowflakes is reversely proportional to the length of the downpour. I.e. the smaller the flakes, the longer it will last.

You learn something new every day.

And then you forget it...

Yesterday. All my troubles seemed so far away - and I complained because the temperature was 0°F. Now I long for such a heat wave, as the mercury crawls down below -20°.

Brrrr...

At least this shows that I am slowly becoming a native: Bitching about the weather, no matter what it is, is quite common where I live now. It actually seems to be the most common conversation starter that strangers will use on you around here.

Back home.

From the land of elven queens. Who supposedly will cast a spell on you. Enchanting. Bewildering.

For a trip down to Mother Earth, opening up a few weeks worth of bills will bring you down faster then just about anything else. Especially if your kitchen sink turns out to have started to leak while you were away. And if the temperature is dropping to 0 (yes, zero) fahrenheit outside.

Luckily, these parts of the country have their own angels fluttering about. They tend to take in forsaken creatures and nurse them back to health with red wine and a warm heart. Which is simply heavenly for weary travellers...

*purr*

After ten days of some on-and-off snowing, we're back to no snow at all. Ah, well. At least we got white Christmas.

The last couple of parties are today/tonight. We went to a few over the weekend - even a 'singing' party at midnight on Saturday. Actually, I went. Couldn't manage to persuade my wife to stay there. She was exhausted and had a headcold. But we both agree that this party had some beautiful songbirds. Especially the migratory ones, who - like us - only flew here to stay over the holidays. I had forgotten that arresting beauty. The radiance. A siren is a better description. Unwittingly casting a spell on those that gaze at her. Oh, cruel world!

Our little trip back home is winding down. We fly back on Tuesday. Everybody has been ooh-ing and aah-ing over the little one, and we have attended a different dinner party every single night for two weeks! It is positively exhausting to take a Christmas vacation. I need a vacation after this vacation.