One of my favorite icebreaker questions has always been, If you could have one superpower, what would it be?
Flying is always a popular answer. Teleportation, telekinesis, telepathy, and televangelism (but only if you’re Billy Graham) always get a lot of votes, too. My answer was always different: I wanted to be able to control the weather. In fact, in my late teens, I created a superhero named The Dark Cloud and began sketching out a comic book.
My superhero even had a nemesis: an evil bellydancer named Charm, complete with her own tagline. Those finger cymbals had the ability to deflect lightning bolts, so she would have been a formidable foe indeed.
Don’t laugh. I was 19 years old. It’s a wonder I still have this sketchbook; I spent 30 minutes tearing the house apart just to locate it.
I only got five panels into my debut comic book before abandoning the pursuit. While the sketches above aren’t terrible (much to my own surprise), they’re misleading because honestly, I can’t draw worth a damn. Not for lack of trying: art was my go-to elective, but despite taking numerous classes, I was never able to coax out any artistic talent. Just goes to show that some things can’t be taught.
Anyway. It appears that I actually do possess this superpower, because — as I’m sure you can tell by looking at my blog — WordPress brought back their animated holiday snow after a seven-year hiatus. Exactly one week after I wrote about how much I missed the snow feature (and later discussed it on Wynne and Vicki’s The Heart of the Matter podcast).
That’s right, guys: I manifested snow! I am The Dark Cloud!
Now, I just need to work on the real stuff, ’cause the flurries we had yesterday were underwhelming. It was nothing degrees this morning, but what fun is that if there isn’t actual white stuff falling from the sky?
Oh, it’s going to precipitate this weekend, but it’ll be the liquid variety instead of the solid. Weird that we’re going from zero to 40 in two days. That’s faster than some cars!
Rain in December just feels wrong. Nobody’s singing Christmas carols about dashing through the rain; Bing Crosby pined for a white Christmas, not a wet one; and the only rainman I’ve ever seen was a really big fan of The People’s Court.
And no, rain angels aren’t a thing either, regardless of the size of your puddle.
I was scrolling through Facebook earlier and came across a post from my friend Heidi. She was showing off pics of her home’s festive holiday decorations, and holy cow, she did a great job. I was especially impressed with the dining room table, which is adorned with fresh pine boughs, sprigs of crimson winterberries, elegant tapered candles, and finely woven placemats.
Our dining room table, by contrast, functions as a convenient place to stack bills that will eventually get paid. If you’re looking for a pair of reading glasses, a multi-purpose lighter, or that Phillips head screwdriver that hasn’t found its way back to the toolbox yet, our dining room table’s your guy! We do have a centerpiece…if you call a plastic lazy Susan full of hot sauces and seasoned salts a centerpiece.
So fancy! I commented. Guess I should wrap some garland around our TV trays.
I’m not saying MarTar Manor is lacking in charm. Many of you mentioned how cozy and inviting it looks. The word “homey” popped up several times. It is definitely those things, but on a different level compared to Heidi. One of us is Martha Stewart on steroids, the other struggles to remember to move discarded socks from the living room floor to the bedroom hamper, and I’m pretty sure I don’t need to tell you who is who in this scenario. Tara is a cleaning Nazi (sorry for the term, can’t think of a better one at the moment), so at least the joint is pretty spick-and-span most of the time.
I am just endlessly fascinated by how other people live and consider a peek inside their inner sanctum a real treat. If I’m walking past a house where the curtains are open and there’s a light on, you bet your ass I’m scrutinizing their living room. Or kitchen. Or (the holy grail!) their bedroom. No, I am not a Peeping Tom!
My name is Mark. Duh.
I even love seeing the inside of other people’s refrigerators. As long as they don’t turn them into art galleries.
Mark My Words 
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