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I just want you to know, everybody whose parties I haven't attended and everybody whose email I haven't answered and everybody whose LiveJournal entries I have not remarked upon even if you've asked the kind of question you might think I'd answer, please blame the short story that I'm writing for
sdn. Don't blame her, though; she gave me plenty of warning. I simply had no idea worth pursuing until a few weeks ago. Now I'm pursuing it all right, but I'm a bit out of shape and wheezy, and it is a very fleet idea. I keep tossing handsful of words at it, and as they stick, it slows down a little, and then I toss some more words.
Yesterday I didn't see much of David because he had gone to Northfield to fix his mother's computer, and I couldn't go along because I was too busy throwing words at my idea. But I had quite a good snuggly time with Raphael, and a particularly nice conversation with Eric. Then I did a lot of pre-bed preparation like snacking and medicating myself and teeth-cleaning and whatnot, and just came and grazed by LJ while I was waiting for the snack to settle. And
chakolate did a list of things that she was grateful for that included "clear skies" for the meteor shower. Oh, eeek, I thought, the Geminids! They've been going on for days and the overcast hereabouts has been unrelenting. But it was, in fact, clear. It was also nine degrees. I Googled for the Geminids, read over Wes Stone's nice guide, and realized that if I went outside I would see the shower at its best for the day. I went in to Raphael's office and remarked firmly that I was NOT going to go outside, and then I started to get undressed for bed, and then I put on a number of layers of clothing and went downstairs and put on boots and a long coat and a hat and gloves, and went outside.
The Geminids were not as exuberant as the Leonids, and I had quite a few minutes in which to tell myself that seeing the stars so clear after so many days of a blank sky was worth having come out even if there were no meteors. Aldebaran was very red. Jupiter was so bright that I could see it through the branches of the trees. With averted vision I could count the Pleiades. Everything glittered. The grass was crunchy with frost. When my face had gotten numb, I began to go inside, but a brief flutter of blue light took me back out again. This was followed in a very leisurely way by a brief streak of white, and another, and then a long streak of green. Conscientiously following the directions to look all over the sky, I turned towards the west, and saw a bright orange blob of light, with no apparent trail, zipping along, seemingly just above the level of the trees that line the street. It passed between our house and the neighbor's, heading north, and vanished. I don't think it could have been anything but a meteor, but the preponderance of nearby objects and its brilliance and size made me a little unsure of exactly what had just happened. I gave a last friendly wave to Orion and to Aldebaran, and went inside..
Pamela
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Yesterday I didn't see much of David because he had gone to Northfield to fix his mother's computer, and I couldn't go along because I was too busy throwing words at my idea. But I had quite a good snuggly time with Raphael, and a particularly nice conversation with Eric. Then I did a lot of pre-bed preparation like snacking and medicating myself and teeth-cleaning and whatnot, and just came and grazed by LJ while I was waiting for the snack to settle. And
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The Geminids were not as exuberant as the Leonids, and I had quite a few minutes in which to tell myself that seeing the stars so clear after so many days of a blank sky was worth having come out even if there were no meteors. Aldebaran was very red. Jupiter was so bright that I could see it through the branches of the trees. With averted vision I could count the Pleiades. Everything glittered. The grass was crunchy with frost. When my face had gotten numb, I began to go inside, but a brief flutter of blue light took me back out again. This was followed in a very leisurely way by a brief streak of white, and another, and then a long streak of green. Conscientiously following the directions to look all over the sky, I turned towards the west, and saw a bright orange blob of light, with no apparent trail, zipping along, seemingly just above the level of the trees that line the street. It passed between our house and the neighbor's, heading north, and vanished. I don't think it could have been anything but a meteor, but the preponderance of nearby objects and its brilliance and size made me a little unsure of exactly what had just happened. I gave a last friendly wave to Orion and to Aldebaran, and went inside..
Pamela
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Date: 2004-12-14 03:45 pm (UTC)I love this, terribly.
I grew up in Santa Fe, where all you had to do for a really spectacular meteor show was drive out beyond the boundaries of town, so I was terribly spoiled. Now that I live in an urban cloudy city (Seattle -- the city lights block what the clouds don't) I realize how much I miss the night skies.
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Date: 2004-12-14 03:54 pm (UTC)meteors, and writing
Date: 2004-12-14 03:54 pm (UTC)Nate
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Date: 2004-12-14 07:47 pm (UTC)Lovely phrase. Reminds me of a few years back (and I've reached the point in my life where "a few years" translates in to "20"...) when someone I didn't know all that well told me it was obvious that I loved words. "No I don't," I answered back. "I love what words do."
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Date: 2004-12-17 07:30 am (UTC)Yum, Pamela!
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Date: 2004-12-18 07:36 pm (UTC)as per usual.