Ice, Ice Baby

My weekend continues to bleed into my week. I guess the phrase, "be careful what you wish for" exists for a reason. On Friday I wanted to petition for three day weekends, and here I am on Wednesday morning, still unable to get my week started. On Monday I had an interview with the company I hope to be working for when I move to Maryland. It went very well and if all goes according to plan there will be a position in the marketing department with my name on it. I felt very confident walking out of the interview, I know this would be a great company to work for and a great bunch of people to work with. Now the follow-up to any interview: sitting and waiting.

The stress of the interview along with thinking of the move brought me to the edge of a panic attack in the middle of the night on Monday. I'm not sure if what followed was related or unrelated, but what followed was an all night sick-binge. Very unpleasant. I tried to get comfortably tucked back in bed, but unfortunately a good nights sleep was already lost. I texted my boss right then and there to let him know I would be in late on Tuesday. It's never a good idea to drive a two hour commute (from my visit in MD to my office in NJ) to work before sunrise running on just a few hours of sleep. I didn't realize what I was getting myself into.

It is now Wednesday morning and I still can't leave. It snowed for half of the day yesterday, and the other half it was icing... hence: stuck. Actually, there is still freezing rain coming down and the temperature keeps dropping which is counter-acting all the salt being used. My brother couldn't even open his car door because it was frozen shut.

Our street just before sunrise.

The length of the street just after sunrise.

My bro ice-surfing down the driveway.

Icey branches of a Red Japanese Maple tree.

So I'm beat. All I can do is sit and wait for the ice to melt or break up. The novelty of snow days is drastically diminshed in adulthood. The guilt of missing work or errands or activities to which you are socially obligated outweighs the fun of sitting inside and doing nothing.

Today's Useless Trivia:

If today's Google page didn't tip you off, today is Jackson Pollock's birthday. My husband's first comment, like many of Pollock's critics was, "that is art?" All I can say is , "Some of the best." Pollock might not be what I would hunt for if I could afford to buy a schmillion dollar painting, but you can't deny that his creations are art. A painting isn't just lines and colors... it is movement and emotion. What I like best about Pollock paintings is that his work gives you a sense of his movement. When you look at them you can almost envision him painting, the way he lipped his smokes, the way his body circled the canvas, the way he turned his head to re-examine the angles, the way his arms flung the paint around. In short, you see more Pollock than paint. As Pollock himself explains, "The method painting is a natural growth out of a need, I want to express my feelings rather than illustrate them." Watch a clip of Pollock in action here.