Ah, January, the month they deliver your electric bill for December in a box.  May yours be a big box, indeed, ‘cause, after all, you should’ve burned some lights to make some Christmas cheer.  The earth is wearing its holy vestments these days in Minnesota, but those small colored bulbs still burn at night here and there, topping the snow that domes the bushes like sprinkles on vanilla ice cream.

Christmas Eve at Elm Creek the chalet was closed, the tube hill was closed, the board hill was closed, the downhill was closed, the rentals were closed, but the deer were there and the luminous snow!  And moi.  Somehow it felt like I was sharing it with the whole world instead of skate skiing alone.  I think it was the perspective.  Waves of stars crashed down on me, and a huge moon detonated like a phosphorous flare burning through diaphanous clouds as thin as gossamer.  You can’t stand on a hill, steaming with exhilaration, inhaling the ether of a crystal night, staring out across miles and miles of phantom blue and twinkling lights, and not feel connected.  Christmas Eve standing on a hill: a frozen moment of time.  I hope yours was as beautiful and maybe a tad warmer.

Apres skate ski has become ritual for me too.  I celebrate it with a near scalding bath, eating mandarines or clementines while I soak away the fatigue and drinking ice water from a gallon jug beside the tub.  If you are what you eat, I’m turning into some kind of orange juice.  Eating is a problem.  It takes so long to re-hydrate that I have no time for food, plus I like to eat early in the day.  And my diet this month began converting to what might be called civilized road kill.  It happens this way.  I ski a long ways, then get back to the chalet and buy a turkey club wrap.  I eat half of it and decide I want to ski some more, so I put the rest of it behind my tire in the parking lot.  I ski.  I come back, too pumped with serotonin, tryptophan and betaendorphines to feel hunger.  So I drive off…  By the time I get to the roundabout, I remember.  Come back.  The turkey club wrap is now a turkey tortilla.  I eat the thing and spend the rest of the day spitting parking lot grit.  Have now done this three times, and it’s getting so that I have more gravel in me than a parakeet.  Twice the turkey wrap wasn’t that badly damaged by the tires (I drove over the sauce), but once it was a direct hit.

Did you ever follow tracks in the snow when you were a kid just to see how far they would go?  Um…guess who’s still a kid?  It’s amazing what turns up that way.  Maybe I’ll turn that into a column some time, but this month I’m writing about poets and mentors over on StorytellersUnplugged.com.  Here’s the link: SU 2008 01-16 » THOMAS SULLIVAN: FIVE SENSES PLUS OR “WHAT WAS THAT YOU SAID, GOD?”   Am also writing more in the snow with ski poles than on the computer, these days, leaving monograms from one end of the trail to the other.  Only, my “S’s” are now more like the mark of Zorro backwards since the snow formed an ice crust and my pole tip slips and skids.  I did, however, turn toward a new novel at home in the Creatorium – an old novel actually that was never really finished.  It’s quite contemporary and titled H.E.R.S. & H.I.M.S.  Also have another idea for a book.  Books start by giving me teasing glimpses, bursts of passion often in the middle of the night or while listening to music.  For some reason the song “Dreams,” by the Cranberries has had me in its thrall for a long time.  The incredible beat is synced to my pulse and the opening guitar and airy lyrics just propel excitement in me.  I am transported.  We’ll see about that one, but the character-driven ironies of a new plot seem to soar with urgency every time I hear “Dreams,” which is often.

Couple of photos below of my ski haunts.  Older newsletters will now be archived on the website, but unfortunately we can only include new photos with the e-mailed version.  If you’re not getting this free monthly newsletter mailed to you and would like to receive it, including photos, ask to be added to the list at: mn333mn@earthlink.net.  As always, this is a Blind Carbon Copy that does not reveal your address.  My address book adds addresses automatically when you send me something.  If you ever wish to stop receiving any emails from me, please just drop me a note to that effect, and I’ll remove your address from my book.  And if you’d like to see more of my latest writing, please check out a free sample chapter from THE WATER WOLF on my website.

Thomas “Sully” Sullivan
http://www.thomassullivanauthor.com/Back To News and Articles