peevish mama

It’s time for Tiny Dancing. High time for Tiny Dancing! The lake is one hundred percent frozen and maybe, just maybe, the winter blue blahs (that sounds like blue balls, heh) are starting to scratch at your door with pale skinny fingers. If you need a perk up, and I know you do, grab your iPod and make a beeline for the center of your lake of choice. Mine is Harriet and dear, sweet, lovely Harriet brought me more than a touch of peace yesterday. It was cold as all hell, but I was in a Sunday funk, so off I went. I couldn’t believe mine were the only footsteps out there. I felt like a bedecked and beswaddled Robinson Crusoe. All alone in the middle of our little city, save the ice fishermen, free to do as I please on a gorgeous white expanse of wind swept snow.

Come on, people! This is new ground! Found ground! A place to go that you can only get to for a couple months out of the year, its solidity completely belying its true ephemerality. That alone is reason enough to go, no?

As if unfettered, outdoor, hidden-in-plain-sight dancing weren’t reason enough.

Post script: Don’t be alarmed by how close I look in this pic. Dash took it last year and I’m sure the zoom was involved. Plus I’m not really in the middle – just bustin’ a couple moves on my way.