ICICLES . . .

They exist now. The sixth day of December, day of Appa's and Wonger's birth. Nineteen days before Christmas. The day of the new winter's first snow. Okay, it's not officially winter yet, but no one seems to have told the damn cold front that.

The worst part of the freezing cold is that everything ... well, freezes. And as if me being a dork normally isn't enough, I am SO afraid of falling and breaking my leg that I walk like an ass when I suspect the ground might be frozen over with black ice. I don't bend my knees. I lean forward at an awkward angle. I half-shuffle, half-step. And I grab for any firm grip I can find in my near vicinity. I am, in essence, an eighty-year old lady with osteoporosis trapped in a twenty-nine-year old ostensibly healthy body.

But the best part is the snuggling. After work today, I came home, wrapped myself in a fluffy down blanket, courtesy of Ha, and took a mini-nap. At Omma's place for dinner, I folded my legs under me, twisted to the side, and tucked my feet under Appa's legs to keep them warm as we ate. We munched on birthday cake and sipped hot Korean barley tea, refilling frequently, as we laughed about everything and chatted about nothing in particular. Putting my coat on to return home, I zipped my parka all the way up to my lower eyelids, and felt the condensation form as I smooshed my face into the inside of the coat. Once home, I jumped into my flannel "Little House on the Prairie" pajamas and relocated into the fluffy down blanket to hop on Bob and see what was up in this vast snowy world of ours.

Sometimes, it takes the cold to remind me what keeps me warm.

***

GIMME A BOOST . . .

Encouragement is such a nice thing. It's like ... well, it's like being wrapped in a fluffy down blanket, actually.

***

TELL ME SOMETHING I DON'T KNOW . . .

I have anger management and grudge-holding problems. According to Omma, this will all dissipate by the time I hit 51 years old, which is approximately when she let go of anger and grudges.

Good to have something to look forward to.

***

WHAT IS ON MY MIND . . .

I want to delve into my subconscious and tickle it for answers, for my blood tests are normal, my blood pressure is low, my bones are strong, my muscles are unatrophied, my white blood cell count is normal, my appetite is standard (if not slightly tapeworm-ish at times), my gaze is steady, my heartbeat is constant.

But I have yet to get a good night's sleep, and have dropped another couple of pounds, necessitating my doctor to rebuke me with "No more. NO MORE. NO MORE!!!!!!" And I could only respond with hound-dog eyes and down-turned lips, "But I'm not doing anything!!!!"

Maybe I'll get some sleep when I turn 51.