[lit-ideas] Re: When You Shake the Thingy, the Snow Falls

I still haven't an answer to Chris' puzzle. Maybe my brain ist gefrozen?
The shortest day, the solstice, the pagan bit passed here without great sacrifice unless you count postponing paper reading as some kind of sacrifice to future stocks of joy. On Saturday E. wanted to see the show at the art museum. While we were getting ready we found that P., the friend from dance, wanted to go too, as did her father, my crabbing chum. And then J. wanted to join in, so we got one of those slow rolling starts you imagine a wagon train having, complicated, all of it involving public transportation, on account of the snow. Eventually we ended up in the same carriage, hopped off at the appropriate stop, walked through the art museum doors ready to show my PNCA I.D. and B.'s membership card..."We're closing early, on account of the weather." We walked across to the historical society, "Closed on account of the weather." Plan III was to try Nordstrom's Rack, an outlet store I haven't visited in years. It was as I remembered it, deceptive. "Fifty percent off all pink tags." I could find no pink tags on the four racks of shoes in my size. None.
I walked us all to an art gallery and asked to see the Andy Warhol print I'd liked a good while back--Andy Warhol does N.W. Indian masks. I remembered it as interesting, or more interesting than most of Warhol, and about five thousand dollars. It had been moved to their sister gallery and was now for sale for nineteen thousand dollars. I probably mis-remembered the price, but the gallery lady did say that while everyone's investments have been going down the tubes, people have been pouring money into name-brand art. Another opportunity you and I both missed.
We liked the show in that gallery and decided to see more at the sister gallery, which was about twelve blocks away. Having our "go- anywhere" tickets, we jumped on the first light rail train to pass, waited for it to start, heard "The points are frozen, we're not going anywhere." So we all walked, stopping at Vodoo Doughnuts. In case you're in the market, they "do" weddings: 

http://voodoodoughnut.com/
Since we knew that we couldn't get home right away on the light rail and the storm was getting more serious, after we were finished in the gallery, we decided on a guy solution to the problem: the girls popped into Powell's for a warm drink and Bob and I had a beer at Deschutes brewery. It was one of the best pints I've had in ages. The walking probably helped the taste, but I'm pretty sure the beer was good anyway.
By the time we had walked back up to the light rail line, things were running again. B. stayed on the train; we exited with P., who had decided to spend the night with us. That's about when the trailer for "Scott of the Antartic" started. You know that movie scene when they blow the massive fans and snow swirls in a blinding manner? That was us walking home, scarves clasped to parts to avoid frostbite, no visibility, a sense of the epic and danger hovering near. It was only a twenty minute walk, but it was a long twenty minutes.
And then came the shortest day, which was the beginning of Channukah. And now everyone is not at work, again, so I'm not reading papers, again. 

Fifteen inches of snow.  Unheard of hereabouts!  Who shook the thingy?

David Ritchie,
Portland, Oregon

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