As I stared out over the dark lake, it seemed like the ice was moving, even though it looked like a solid sheet. Were my eyes playing tricks on me? It looked to me like it was moving up and down, almost as if it were breathing, and I began to wonder if maybe the ice was softer than I thought.
I’ve looked back at my first four entries in this journal and realize that I can be quite wordy. Which makes sense because that’s how I speak as well. I tend to paint pictures with my words, leaving no corner of the canvas untouched. Over the course of many years, I’ve discovered that my speaking style produces two possible reactions in people 1) intrigued interest, or 2) a desire to tear the eyeballs out of one’s own head. There seems to be no in-between.
These decorations are a nice contrast to a different sort of Christmas decoration I used to see when I lived in Chicago. After heavy snowfalls, Chicagoans have had this tradition of decorating the streets with orange cones, folding chairs, broomsticks, and other implements of obstruction designed to keep others from taking the on-street parking space they just shoveled.
I think the aliens are laughing at me.