Since Masha shared with us what she was not in yesterday’s post, I thought I’d tell you what I am. I am the type of person who watches a pot of water boil. No, seriously. (And it actually does boil, believe it or not.)

When we first got fish, I could sit and observe them frolic and swim around for hours. And don’t get me started on babies. Endless. Entertainment. Of course, this is from the mother who still loves to watch her son fall asleep. (Hey, he’s still in nursery school. That statement would be a lot more strange if he were, say, thirty.)

Where I draw the line, though, is watching grass grow. Too damn boring, too damn long. Yesterday, however, I found a similar, albeit more interesting and prettier, pastime: watching snow fall.

As the snow fell and fell and fell, I was thinking that the accumulation of these fluffy white flakes is a lot like writing a book. You start with these fragile, insubstantial things — words — that by themselves don’t amount to much. You throw a bunch of them together, and you might get the slightest, barest hint of a story.

You keep at it, and pretty soon, you might have a chapter or two or three.

If the words continue to fall steadily enough, and for a long enough period of time…

…then sooner or later, you will have something substantial, something pristine, something you would be proud to share with the world.

To all of our friends in the mermaid lagoon, whether or not the weather is balmy or frigid, I wish you all a very merry Snow Day!!

Xxxx