Micro to Macro to Micro to...

When Kitwich was little, we lived in a snowy part of the country, and on snow days she used to watch the flakes come down with an expression on her face like, "Mommy, it's raining cat toys!"

Now that she and I are city dwellers, the cat toys don't come down very often, but just a few minutes ago we started to get a few flakes, and now they're fairly pelting down. They're nice big fat ones, too - the kind that always promised a good thick carpet for me to tromp around in later.

Today, though, I'll be riding around in it, as I have places to go and people to see. I always have to get outside and experience the snow - it's one of those things that I love in some primal way that is hard to explain. Or pointless to explain - you either feel the same way about it, or you think of it as purely an inconvenience.

"We are the light that travels into space." - Zero Seven.

I love that line. I've often wondered about the connection between astronomy and metaphysics - or rather, how far off our science is from the deeper truth. No, that's not exactly it. I feel like maybe there's a connection between the kinds of esoteric ideas that advanced astro- and particle physics get into and the kinds of revelations that we usually think of as spiritual in nature.

I really don't want to die, ever, but I am curious about whether I'll find a connection at that point.

Yeah, yeah, Master of the Nonsequitur. Or however the frack you spell that.

No news is boy news, which may be a good thing, considering that I've been bashing my head into that particular brick wall the last few days, but I did have an interesting conversation with a girl who may or may not also have a crush on him. Maybe she and I will end up being friends, and that will be a nice perverse way for things to work out. It's happened before, if I'm not mistaken.

I was gonna wake up "early" today (you know why that's in quotes, don't you?) and dash off in hopes of seeing him. And then there was snow, and fond memories of Miss Kitwich keeping me company on my lap whilst I worked away next to the snowy window with the pine tree.

And now, well, there's a different snowy window, and a different pine tree, and she's on my lap again, head resting on my left arm, front paws folded under her in that beautifully Egyptian way they do, and purring, and cat-smiling at me. Who could rush off, under those circumstances?