exclamation points

The sidewalk ploughs must have got the order to blitzkrieg last night -- the walk into work this morning was almost civilized in its levelness. No climbing over frozen drifts, no being forced into the road. There are still a few choked residential streets in the north end (read: our neighbourhood) where the city sort of shrugs and says, Look, you're the kind of people who probably don't vote anyway, but Oona and I got to daycare without her getting pitched out of the sled once. Capital!

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The new infant (weeping, inconsolably) at daycare has shiny little earrings. "You have earrings!" I said, trying to be enthusiastic. She cried harder.

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Most mornings I come across an elderly couple as they (slowly) make their way from the house to the (waiting, running) car. The gentleman, who looks like one of the dwarves on the way to Lonely Mountain, uses two canes. The lady, who is bigger and slower, uses only one. From hearing them talk to neighbours, I know they are on their way to swim class. Swim class! Their determination (sometimes) serves to keep me from bitching too much (about the weather, how tired I am, the unlikelihood of the Sabres making the playoffs, etc). And they always say good morning.

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The other night, at the corner store, I watched a young fellow buying scratch-and-win tickets. He had a tattoo of an eagle on the side of his face. All I could think about was the doomed convergence of those two ideas: tattoo on face equals scratch tickets as only viable income stream. But maybe he was a rock star and I'm just an open-mouthed peasant.

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We watched The Italian Job recently. Michael Caine gets to be charming, chase birds and break into places. Then there's an hour of stunts. Minis are fun!

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Getting back into the studio these days, where I plan to put in some inhuman hours this month ... I have some commitments coming up and some definite ideas for them, and once you start, you really have to keep going and follow it through to the end. With painting, all you can do is have some imagination, some reference material, and the will to stand at the easel and go at it until your legs give out.