Tuesday, January 12, 2010

Ice is Beautiful But Really I'm Over It

dramatic extension
Originally uploaded by mygothlaundry
I managed to take the dogs out for a run at Hominy Creek this morning - the first time since we were all transported to the Arctic. I took a whole bunch of pictures which you can see on Flickr and they are terrific, wonderful, great pictures - of ice. I was sort of squatting on the ice (this was okay, because I was wearing two pairs of overalls and two pairs of socks and a peruvian ski sweater and a coat and a muffler and two hats and a pair of gloves and a pair of mittens, so although it was somewhat difficult to actually, you know, move, I was nonetheless warm) taking these pictures and thinking, as one does at these times, about how great the pictures were going to be and what a compositional goddamn genius I am and stuff like that when suddenly it occurred to me, "What if I become famous for ice pictures? And my ice pictures are world renowned and National Geographic hires me to go around taking more pictures of ice? And they send me to Antarctica and Greenland and Siberia and, I don't know, maybe Maggie Valley? That would SUCK." I considered ditching all the pictures at this point just to keep the fame at bay but I didn't. You have to suffer for your art so here they are, ice pictures, with the first 16 or so on that page from this morning. I'm not going to Greenland, National Geographic. You can beg but forget it, I want to go to Hawaii instead.

Chances are I'm not going to Hawaii any time soon, but I do get out: we are supposed to go to Hendersonville this evening to pick up my son's new car. Yes, we finally agreed on a car. It is super fancy and green and I probably am paying too much money for it but fuck it, it felt safe and easy to drive and I couldn't take another day of car hunting. I didn't even blog about the car that stalled out on me five times in ten minutes and now hopefully I can consign that particular gruesome memory to oblivion. It's a shame you can't specify which memories to keep and which to lose but drugs just never work that way, or at least the ones I take.

However! This is about Hendersonville, not drugs! What a pity! Still. I don't know if we're going to make it because a) it's snowing again, of course, see point 1, above, "We All Live In the Arctic Now" and b) my right foot has decided to be broken. I didn't do anything, I swear, to prompt this decision on the part of my foot; it made the choice all by itself without me even getting the fun of falling down or jumping around but, whatever, it's been getting worse all day and now I'm not even sure I can hobble the three blocks to the bank or my car. I have made an appointment with a doctor for the morning, which is terrifying, since I usually wait until I'm about better to give up and go to the doctor. I did go to the dermatologist week before last for some bumps on my forehead that had gone away; he confirmed that they were, indeed, gone and told me I had very fair skin. "No!" I said, looking shocked. (I didn't, actually, say this but I wanted to.)

I don't go to doctors much and the last (and only) time I went to a podiatrist was in Baltimore about 15 years ago. That podiatrist was located inside a funeral home, which I thought then and think now was a handy location in case something during the course of the removal of my plantar wart went terribly, horribly wrong. This one is apparently located next to the permanent makeup cosmetic surgery clinic, so if the foot prognosis is bad I'll just hop over and get some permanent eyeliner and maybe a face lift to cheer me up.

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