Marissa Lingen (mrissa) wrote,
Marissa Lingen
mrissa

Winter is coming. Look busy. No, wait, that's someone else.

I overdid it in the heat last night and have been paying since. One of my friends refers to me as a "slightly too-finely-tuned machine," and I'm afraid this is true in some regards. I am not built for heat. I come from those people who raided the coasts of Ireland, mopped their brows, and said, "Oof, it's hot down here in the steamy tropics. Also they seem mad about those nuns. Let's go home." The ones who could stand the heat went off to be soldiers for the Byzantine Empire, and the others waved and smiled and shouted, "Send home silver!" -- and bred up some more little cold-loving babies, which eventually resulted in me.

When we lived in California, sometimes I would have a really excellent time and would enjoy the place we were and the people we were with and the stuff we were doing. But I was always homesick underneath it; underneath it -- and not too far underneath -- was the awareness that I was not where I belonged. I was only a temporary visitor; I was going home soon. I'm like that about summer, too. I'm only a temporary visitor to summer. I can enjoy its tank tops and its long bright evenings and its fresh peas and cherries, but underneath it, I am homesick for winter.

I think maybe one of the reasons I bounced off the George R. R. Martin books is that, "Winter is coming," always seemed like such a cheerful family slogan to me. "Winter is coming! Eeeee! *bounce bounce*"

Anyway, I will try to be more careful in the future with water and shade and so on (I'm already careful with sunblock), and in the meantime I'm somewhat prepared-ish for the driveway work to start today. I have moved the car out of the garage. We got the trees trimmed yesterday where they hung over the driveway.

Anyway. I'm still a little shaky and trying to get on the right side of hydrated, so I think it's one of those days I'll ask you people to tell me something good. With a theme! Tell me one of your favorite things about someone close to you. Parent, partner, friend, child, co-worker, fourth cousin twice removed, whatever. Something nifty about them.

Or, I suppose, something nifty about summer, to help me enjoy my stay here until winter comes back to me. That would be fine, too.
Tags: dead vikings are lots of fun, random questions, summer is a foreign country
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