In the last episode of Frozen Girl, we left our heroine sipping a frozen latte while sunning by the pool. In this episode of The Adventures of Frozen Girl, we'll find out what happens as the temperature falls faster than a 2008 stock market ticker tape...
Normally on a warm and sunny morning, our heroine, Frozen Girl, throws off the thin sheet under which she slumbers and presses the pads of her plantars on the planks of hardwood floor while stretching her limbs in all directions like a starfish reaching for plankton on a summer ocean pier. An hour of power-flow-vinyasa yoga and a few loops around the track are finished faster than Lance Armstrong can charge up the Pyrenees. A cool-ish shower, light make-up and a damp pony tail are all finished before Guy Raz can sign off of an All Things Considered episode which streams on her laptop. Wrapping her favorite dress around her, slipping into sandals and spritzing perfume on her nape, Frozen Girl is armed with the essentials to save the world, one business seminar at a time.
However, on this mid-October morning, the dim sunlight protruding through the icey-etched windowpane has had to travel through layers of stratus clouds which cover the sky like a sheet of hazy wax paper. It's as if the sun has changed from its crystal-grooved 100-watt glass envelope to a rayless-opaque 40-watt bulb. Our heroine, Frozen Girl, inches under the layers of fabric--cotton, wool, chenille, acrylic padding--which stack above her like sedimentary rock in the Grand Canyon. Paul McCartney serenades our heroine, "Here comes the sun and I sa--" as she clicks snooze for the 6th time having only been aware of this routine twice. On this day, Frozen Girl knows that she is facing her toughest nemesis; it is her Kryptonite for Superman, her binding of the bracelets for Wonder Woman, her yellow color for Green Lantern, and it's the one thing that renders the positive, energetic and happy heroine helpless: Seasonal Affective Disorder or S.A.D.
On mornings such as this, Frozen Girl is weakened by the depressive-ness of this malaise-ial disorder, S.A.D. Overnight, without being aware, Frozen Girl has suffered the affects of S.A.D. Her skin has become a pastel-pale hue of grey, 5 extra silver slivers of hair have sprouted from the crown of her head, and her normally erect spine has become slump and slack as to protrude a hump over her right shoulder at which Richard III would gawk. She stands and looks in the mirror noticing that a twister tornado has managed to sweep through her room only to twist her hair in a frizzy, knotted fray of a disheveled haystack. Under her eyes are charcoal-colored half-circles the size she left on a freshly-painted curb with her radial car tires. Slapping her hand on the side of the mirror and, with the free hand, cracking her spine erect, then staring between hazel hues into her plaintive black pupils, she reasons the antidote to the Seasonal Affective Disorder in a whisper, "Coffee".
As she ladles the powder of dark-brown coffee granules into the Turkish-style pot, our heroine scoops an extra half-spoonful into the water before plunging the spoon into the still cold viscosity. Frozen Girl, rests her leaden-heavy head upon folded arms on the chilly, linoleum counter top and waits for the water to boil the murky mixture into a pharmacological remedy. If a watched pot never boils, then a watched pot that one forgets to ignite the stove burner under has as good a chance to steam as the flue on a Union Pacific locomotive does in the age of diesel-electric powered trains. Our heroine puffs a sigh of frosty breath into her bangs, clicks the stove knob over to High and shuffles her heavy slippers to the restroom to have a pee.
Our heroine sits on the glacial latrine as the sharp spears of her elbows crease the tops of her thighs with the weight of her head in her hands. Our heroine repeats a mantra that she learned from her days as a triathlete to now get her psyched up just to simply face the day, "The woman who starts the race is not the same woman who finishes the race" and compares the short-dark-smoggy-soupy days of winter which lay ahead as a competition to test her commitment to the foreign aid life which she has chosen. Frozen Girl's ears concentrate on a sound that is familiar yet uncommon to every morning. It is the cacophony of water, something dripping, something wet, something boiling--the coffee!
They say that Eistein thought of the Theory of Relativity while sitting on the toilet. And that on a cold day in December of 1862, Lincoln sat in a frigid outhouse as he discovered the alternate phrase to saying, "87 years ago" or, "A really effing long time ago". It is ironic that Frozen Girl discovers that life is not all coffee breaks and alternative forms of mood altering substances that make your life livable. It is laughing at yourself when your pants are around your ankles, then blogging about it for your friends and family to read that makes life one hell of a good time.
In the next episode of Adventures of Frozen Girl: Getting Dressed to Go Outside. Stay tuned....
**Thanks for reading!! Please leave a comment below. You can even leave it as "anonymous" Cao cao :-)
The Adventures of Frozen Girl
In the last episode of Frozen Girl, we left our heroine sipping a frozen latte while sunning by the pool. In this episode of The Adventures of Frozen Girl, we'll find out what happens as the temperature falls faster than a 2008 stock market ticker tape...
Normally on a warm and sunny morning, our heroine, Frozen Girl, throws off the thin sheet under which she slumbers and presses the pads of her plantars on the planks of hardwood floor while stretching her limbs in all directions like a starfish reaching for plankton on a summer ocean pier. An hour of power-flow-vinyasa yoga and a few loops around the track are finished faster than Lance Armstrong can charge up the Pyrenees. A cool-ish shower, light make-up and a damp pony tail are all finished before Guy Raz can sign off of an All Things Considered episode which streams on her laptop. Wrapping her favorite dress around her, slipping into sandals and spritzing perfume on her nape, Frozen Girl is armed with the essentials to save the world, one business seminar at a time.
However, on this mid-October morning, the dim sunlight protruding through the icey-etched windowpane has had to travel through layers of stratus clouds which cover the sky like a sheet of hazy wax paper. It's as if the sun has changed from its crystal-grooved 100-watt glass envelope to a rayless-opaque 40-watt bulb. Our heroine, Frozen Girl, inches under the layers of fabric--cotton, wool, chenille, acrylic padding--which stack above her like sedimentary rock in the Grand Canyon. Paul McCartney serenades our heroine, "Here comes the sun and I sa--" as she clicks snooze for the 6th time having only been aware of this routine twice. On this day, Frozen Girl knows that she is facing her toughest nemesis; it is her Kryptonite for Superman, her binding of the bracelets for Wonder Woman, her yellow color for Green Lantern, and it's the one thing that renders the positive, energetic and happy heroine helpless: Seasonal Affective Disorder or S.A.D.
On mornings such as this, Frozen Girl is weakened by the depressive-ness of this malaise-ial disorder, S.A.D. Overnight, without being aware, Frozen Girl has suffered the affects of S.A.D. Her skin has become a pastel-pale hue of grey, 5 extra silver slivers of hair have sprouted from the crown of her head, and her normally erect spine has become slump and slack as to protrude a hump over her right shoulder at which Richard III would gawk. She stands and looks in the mirror noticing that a twister tornado has managed to sweep through her room only to twist her hair in a frizzy, knotted fray of a disheveled haystack. Under her eyes are charcoal-colored half-circles the size she left on a freshly-painted curb with her radial car tires. Slapping her hand on the side of the mirror and, with the free hand, cracking her spine erect, then staring between hazel hues into her plaintive black pupils, she reasons the antidote to the Seasonal Affective Disorder in a whisper, "Coffee".
As she ladles the powder of dark-brown coffee granules into the Turkish-style pot, our heroine scoops an extra half-spoonful into the water before plunging the spoon into the still cold viscosity. Frozen Girl, rests her leaden-heavy head upon folded arms on the chilly, linoleum counter top and waits for the water to boil the murky mixture into a pharmacological remedy. If a watched pot never boils, then a watched pot that one forgets to ignite the stove burner under has as good a chance to steam as the flue on a Union Pacific locomotive does in the age of diesel-electric powered trains. Our heroine puffs a sigh of frosty breath into her bangs, clicks the stove knob over to High and shuffles her heavy slippers to the restroom to have a pee.
Our heroine sits on the glacial latrine as the sharp spears of her elbows crease the tops of her thighs with the weight of her head in her hands. Our heroine repeats a mantra that she learned from her days as a triathlete to now get her psyched up just to simply face the day, "The woman who starts the race is not the same woman who finishes the race" and compares the short-dark-smoggy-soupy days of winter which lay ahead as a competition to test her commitment to the foreign aid life which she has chosen. Frozen Girl's ears concentrate on a sound that is familiar yet uncommon to every morning. It is the cacophony of water, something dripping, something wet, something boiling--the coffee!
They say that Eistein thought of the Theory of Relativity while sitting on the toilet. And that on a cold day in December of 1862, Lincoln sat in a frigid outhouse as he discovered the alternate phrase to saying, "87 years ago" or, "A really effing long time ago". It is ironic that Frozen Girl discovers that life is not all coffee breaks and alternative forms of mood altering substances that make your life livable. It is laughing at yourself when your pants are around your ankles, then blogging about it for your friends and family to read that makes life one hell of a good time.
In the next episode of Adventures of Frozen Girl: Getting Dressed to Go Outside. Stay tuned....
**Thanks for reading!! Please leave a comment below. You can even leave it as "anonymous" Cao cao :-)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)