Snowballs in the Ice Tray

Snow!  It takes me twenty minutes plodding around the house before I notice the obvious.  A few inches have fallen over night.  This is reminiscent of a November 1, morning from six years back.  Halloween got steadily colder.  The next morning; snow over dusty Beijing.  Living next to a desert, one appreciates all precipitation.

My younger one screamed.  “Snow!  I can’t believe it.”  She ran from window to window, amplifying my own appreciation.  “Go out and enjoy it now.  You see how large those flakes are?   This is going to wash away before long.” 

I’m on a call with someone in New York.  “Seventy degrees yesterday. “  Tokyo remains bucolic, I learn, as well.  Big soggy flakes drift down, the speed of rain. 

I snap some photos outside.  We decide upon a one-snowball minimum.  I gallantly toss mine at her backside.  I turn.  She clobbers me in the neck.  Snow slides down, behind my collar.  Later when I look for frozen fruit in the freezer, I find two snowballs in the ice tray. 

In the evening, more wood.  Snow demands fire.  We need more wood.  Go get wood, and wine, and ice cream.   The car still has some snow on top, late in the evening. The roads are merely wet.  The local mall is much easier to drive around at 9:00PM.  I get just the spot I want.  Walking over to the ATM machine, phone in one ear, I am suddenly put on hold.  Once I enter the ATM-hut, I am assaulted by the security announcement that sounds like it is set to Who concert decibel ranges.  My friend talks faintly below.  Is that to me or to his third party?  It will need to wait till I’m out of range of this recording to inquire.

Wood is twenty-five kuai a bundle.  There must be a better way.  A bundle only lasts an hour or two.  Everyone moves their operation around the fire now.  Wife thumb tapping, girls cuddled around a computer with one of the Harry Potter movies showing.  “Dad.  Can you imitate Snape?”  Me, typing, as you can see.  We’ve agreed to let the fire die.