Upstairs I am up extra-early on this Seventeenth of January, much to the chagrin of Mercury. "There are only ninety minutes before the jackhammers begin," he muttered, rolling over and burrowing under my abandoned pillow. I take this to mean that he doesn't appreciate my typing as a prologue. But, sheesh, after three brandies, a beer, and an ill-advised cup of coffee after work, how's a girl to sleep? It's winter in the Land of the Delta Blues. Yesterday morning, I saw four bedraggled finches sitting on their feet, in the rain, near the construction zone. It looked like a damned miserable day to be a finch. So they got, among them, a quarter of my breakfast croissant. Happy cheeps! I like urban finches and have since I first met them in Ohio. I bless Mercury's fundamental good nature, because a croissant will not, for him, offset the annoyance of the construction outside our apartment. Winter construction. The trolley line is fenced off for a solid block in each direction. Every piece of earth-moving equipment known to man, and then some, has taken up residence below our window. I am told these are not municipal workers but private contract workers. Whoever they are, they are terribly busy jackhammering, drilling, scraping, lifting, driving, tossing, shouting, and so forth. It really is better than TV. A'course, there's no volume control. Merc has taken to practicing law under a pair of padded purple headphones. Between those, his boxers, and his leather coat (it's a bit chilly here in the warehouse loft), and his mink bedroom slippers, he's a fine picture of a young lawyer. As much as I miss the thought of going to Minnesota, I do find myself a bit eager to return with Mercury to Florida. Winter is cold. I had forgotten that part. Winter construction. It's a peaceful time inside my head. I don't have any large projects on the obsession list, and won't until May, when I begin study for the Florida bar exam. I seem to have shaken off a large chunk of the "big-D" and pass my days in relative psychological silence. It's a good and quiet year. I'm making money, enough to cover the bills and put a bit toward the next lean time. I'm considering going out on my own in Florida, provided I pass the bar. Merc and I eat a lot of sushi at the hotel two blocks down. We now have the cable hooked up and look forward to the playoffs. And, holy of holies, Merc has persuaded his parents into the idea of a small wedding. Shazam! Now I can get really excited about planning. The next task on that list: "Nudge Merc away from this Colorado mountaintop idea and get his thoughts back to the Florida hotel idea." But there's time for that. Right now, I feel there's time for a lot of things. Walking to work yesterday, I saw bright tiny snowflakes whirling through the leaves of tall, glossy, green-black magnolia trees. That's something I have never seen, and something I am not likely to see too often again. It's winter in the Land of the Delta Blues. And in the home of Ygraine and Mercury it is, as the playwright said, "almost like a normal life." |
6:11 a.m. - 01-17-03
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