mjj (flemmings) wrote,

Was looking at unfilled Yuletide requests yesterday. Before the whole archive became inaccessible, right? And not one but two people have requested Mara, Daughter of the Nile, the book I lived in in my early teens. One requester is utter anonymous, and the other, the one with the very detailed ideas, is someone next to whose name I have a vague Bartleby mark, for reasons lost in the mists of time. But still. Mara, Daughter of the Nile. Good lord that takes me back.

Yesterday also remarkable for strange weather phenomenon. Got on bike in morning on dry and empty street, biked to the end of the block, found next street covered in light blowing drifts-- weird-- and all the streets south even more so. Stuff fallen in the night that had vanished from my block? Special thermal warming applicable only to Clinton between Follis and Yarmouth? which is taking discrete ecosystems just a mite far, frankly. Got to drugstore, parked, looked about me. No snow was falling. Went in, bought supplements and batteries for the Wordtank (and tried them right there and the WT rejected both brands, oh woe) came out again and there was snow on the saddle. No snow was falling, OK? Thought a) my contacts are foggier than I'd thought b) my eyes are worse than I'd thought c) my skin has become impervious to sensation because I can't feel this falling snow that is no drifting about my feet.

S-I-L later confirmed that yes, it was invisible snow when no snow was supposed to have fallen at all, so ya got yer white christmas, guys, until it started melting this morning, and I had to stash the bike for the rest of the day.
Tags: reading, rl_09, writing, xmas

  • Blerg

    Yanno, body, if you're going to keep me up to all hours emptying the contents of my digestive system, maybe you could register something more than…

  • (no subject)

    It turned dry and cool overnight after yesterday's muggy deluge and I figured I wouldn't get a better chance to go to the end of the street for my…

  • (no subject)

    A book came in unexpectedly at the library and since I no longer trust me on the bike *or* off it, I decided to walk over and see what happens. What…

  • Post a new comment


    Anonymous comments are disabled in this journal

    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded 

  • 1 comment