Maine Ice...

They compared last night's storm to the big one of 1998 - sometimes, that is okay, but not when you are sick of picturesque little Maine towns, and short people who chew their gum way too loud and that obnoxious Northeastern attitude - I was full up with it this week, had enough, finito, done. Maine is a beautiful place, but I don't quite understand why people still live there - I mean there is great skiing (so I hear), there are lobsters, and they do make beans to supply Boston just a few hours south. Other than that, there are squat little houses, and tiny streets and cold ice water weather - maybe Mainers are a tough breed - and they stay to prove that - or maybe, just maybe, they refuse to let us outsiders in on their secret.

Waking up this morning at 6:30 am to no sound - for me that is unique - I blare the television on C-Span, and keep the air conditioning running - those are my roommates for the time being, but this morning, it was quiet. The power was out - the ice had pulled down several trees, and apparently the generator was not quite ready yet - so it was cold, it was quiet, and the gray scene outside the window glistened as the wind blew through the sagging trees. It was a nice scene to sit and listen from the cover of a rapidly chilling hotel room - the crash of the limbs straining under the weight and hitting the ground below, the sound of ice splattering on the pavement, the sound of the maintenance man shoveling the drive, cursing the weather and the shitty shovel the hotel had provided him with...

That was Maine Ice - that was my morning - I hate to think that there are a few more long months of winter ahead up there, but in an odd sort of way, I look forward to more of those sounds, and the cold, and the Maine Ice....