We’re getting a whiff, in these late-January days, of what we’re up against now, as the sunlight lasers through the last of the autumn eaves, as the trash trucks pick up the last brittle trees.
If mid-winter were a country, no one would visit.
Still, life goes on. Be sure to get your yearbook orders in early, and stay on the lookout for those invigorating boxes of Thin Mints. The winter Olympics are coming up, and all that snow and ice usually adds some luster to these otherwise drab mid-winter months.
Meanwhile, my son Smartacus reports that Bruno Mars has dropped another song that reminds us of Motown.
Crazy, right? Just when you think the world has gone completely mad, abandoning any semblance of taste or romance, along comes Mr. Mars with another lush and catchy serenade.
This will be a short post today, as I turn down the thermostat, pull up the blanket, reflect on a quick trip I just took to the mountains to see my old friend Steve.
Coming up in this space: A Valentine’s piece about “proper pairings”: Romeo and Juliet, meat and potatoes, Sonny and Cher. Stay tuned for that.
I’m also polishing up a piece on this new Flying Couch I’m developing, a fictional airplane that lets grandparents and other babysitters take off for distant lands without ever leaving the house. You just load the couch with small kids, buckle your imaginary seatbelts, start the engine and go. You’re probably getting the drift already.
“Hey look! Whales!”
I’ve also got one of those scatterbrained Random Thoughts columns in the works. Because if anyone doesn’t need much of a hook for an essay, it’s me.
Look, Suze, no hands!
See, life has always been a little too structured for me, all those school bells, all those newspaper deadlines. Every day for 45 years? Tick-tock, tick-tock…
All I ‘ve ever really wanted is an old Chevy convertible and the latest Motown hit.
Fortunately, I have this Flying Couch. The sky’s the limit.
Yet, is the sky ever really the limit? Because from what I’ve heard, there might be trillions of galaxies out there, a ga-zillion Flying Couches with giggling children aboard.
“Fly me to the moon, let me play among the stars…”
Makes you think a little, doesn’t it? OK, maybe not. In any case, safe travels to us all.
Finally, at brunch the other day, I learned that one of my daughters dyed her eyelashes — a little darker, so they don’t disappear in the mid-winter light, the morning sunbeams so stiff that you can barely see to drive.
I suppose that’s one way to approach these cold and cosmic mid-winter mornings, with new and fresh eyes.
Question for the class: Do I dye my lashes? Do I still have any lashes?
See ya Saturday.
While you were riffing on old songs, Bruno Mars — hey, I have heard the name, if not his music! — and driving a Chevy convertible, a line from an oldie came to mind : “… drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry, there were some good old boys drinking whiskey and rye, singing this will be the day that that I die.” (Any errors in this quote are all mine.)
I want to drive a Chevy to the levee!
“…if anyone doesn’t need much of a hook for an essay, it’s me.” That is your superpower, Chris. Can’t wait to see what unlikely trains of thought you couple together next. And love those kid pics. Keep em coming!
Morning, Caroll. Thanks for understanding.
As a really old guy, I don’t know Bruno Mars. I’ll have to get up to date & check his music 🎶 out. But I certainly know Sinatra! “ Fly me to the moon…” is his song and therefore mine.
My three granddaughters are remote (1-SF, 2-Seattle) but fortunately my flying couch has WiFi!
Fun fact: Bruno Mars got fired from an Irish pub on Ventura Blvd. In Woodland Hills, and a year or so later was an international hit! ( Not AI generated so any errors are totally my fault! )
I mourn for The Bears…so close and yet so far. Yet, that pic of you and Cakes exploding on The Magic Couch? Priceless. It makes me want to say,”How high and how far?”. No one currently emptying a morning brain does it better than you. This piece rests my case. By the way, how about those Hoosiers?….so we really do have something to celebrate, and in mid-winter in SoCal, with that stiff sunlight beating down, one might be able to make a little confetti of the morning light after all. As for the leaves, they’re the past, done and gone, and I have an orange rose gone wild with sherbet ecstasy over the recent rains, pouring big fragrant blossoms into the morning light. If that doesn’t melt stiffness, I don’t know what does. Maybe Suze……
…and speaking of melting light, I saw several yellow butterflies larking in the garden yesterday. Normally they only appear when the yellow-flowered Cassia tree blooms, but that one has been shedding leaves in its annual mid-winter fade and looking like it should have vultures filling its branches…so what’s going on? Are they softening light? No matter, for I have another melting creature fluttering and soaring inside the house…..
Dance Instructor
She floats like a falling leaf, wafting
This way and that, her windblown lilting
Arabesques make space seem musical
In a graceful tour-de-force display
Of the art of energy that makes you
Want to get up and dance through the rooms
With her as she negotiates time
And task with the swirling lifts and turns
A breeze might sponsor, so light each lurch
Of impulse that one cannot detect
Motive or plan in gusts of movement
Or the brief shifts or soft extensions
That mark thought or delicate touch;
I don’t know how her nature crafting
Beauty could be less than enchanting
Given its flights of such lyrical
Fantasy you want to stop and stay
In her arc of flight–an avenue
Of dreams whose brief deflections presume
Explosive combustion and sublime
Aerial fireworks, like birds whose burn
Icarus would envy, the sun’s torch
One more light-driven star’s intersect
With melting flesh so fluid her bent
For grace–an afterthought of tension’s
Continuing resolution–like much
of time, just seems immaterial:
Heaven touching ground–ethereal
Franchise; there is little else to say
With dreams dancing; watching her each day
Makes you want to dance your life away
In her arms, with naught but love at play….
So much for melting mid-winter light.
Been traveling, but up to date on your wonderful columns. Sorry about Da Bears, but it was a nice run. The Indiana game was by far my favorite football game! Can’t imagine any pro game that good. I’ve made a plan to see Bruno Mars in concert, haven’t decided who won’t get paid so I can buy tickets $$$$! Your little red haired fan club is getting cuter each day!
I love the flying couch idea! And if you want a great Fly Me To The Moon, listen to the version VOCES8 sings.
We’re coming up on pretty hard cold in Chicago, & as the saying goes, there’s no bad weather, just bad clothes. But still, I’ll only be going if needed!
Be safe!