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So I invented a word.  So what.  Why is it every new word invented has to do with the internet or G4, or some new techy creation.  I think it communicates what I'm thinking.

We painters do our talking best  in paint.   With strokes, jabs, and dabs, we wash in or coat a canvas to communicate visually what we feel inside.  And that image has got to say it all at once.  No time to weave textures of music together , theme A thenB, back to A till we arrive at a breathtaking cresendo.  No series of pirouettes with trailing veils chiffon fabric trailing behind on stage awash in a fog of dry ice.  No 525 pages, 16,456 paragraghs till we let out the butler's babysitter's brother did it.  We don't get Act 3 after intermission, or an Act 2 even.  No, we paint it, frame it, hang it, and it's gotta speak on it's  own.  One glance is all we get.

With all the jazzed electronic novelties competing for an eye and nimble digits to message each musing, we certainly got our work cut out for us. 

That's why I like winter.  A cold winter like here in Minnesota.  Half the stuff you thought of doing, well, forget it!  Too cold for that.  Besides the car wont start anyway.  We all just look for a warm spot and hunker down.  Get enough hunkering together, no need to text.  And Minnesota nice prevents us from allowing our cell phone to ring aloud break rank and speak of something other than the weather.  Oh, except for rantings against the Vikings.

So we got our first snowfall and we're closing ranks.  Getting ready for the next half of year.  Sinking deeper in the cold, November, December, January, February, March...Aggggh.  It's BRRRRRRRRRRRRACK