When people ask, I always say Summer is my favorite season. The long days, the warm nights, the breezes. And, for the same reasons, Winter has always been my least favorite: Short, dark days, the cold, the cutting wind.

But in the last few days, I realized I don't mind, I may even like, Winter.

A blizzard hit us two days ago. We knew about it in advance, but it didn't seem logical with dry, warmer weather. But at the first sign of snow, BIPC shut its offices and in less than half an hour, the campus emptied out in a panic.

I stayed. No gurgling babies, no annoying cell phones. From my quiet spot inside, I could watch an unceasing white downpour. WHen at last I flashed my badge to open the rear door, my car was a lonely marshmallow bump in a melted marshmallow sea.

Thanks to front-wheel drive and a manual stickshift, Honda rumbled home peaceful in a land of amber and halogen chaos. IN this world, there were no lanes of traffic, only ruts barely visible in the onslaught, and like some 21st century pioneer, we charted our progress from landmarks. A gas station, a fast food restaurant. While other vehicles lobbed past me down the alley full of purpose, too often they became helpless bowling balls ploughing into the wrong pins or shimmying endlessly on the edge.

At home, the television flashed dire warnings and predictions, but Grace was eager to ignore them and out we went again on foot. It's clear Grace loves this weather as she long-jumps and bounds as good as any olympic competitor through virgin territory, dragging her human explorer behind her.

It's quiet the next morning and one look outside tells me that it's useless to attempt to get ready for work. Instead, I savor the time it takes to make a fresh pot of coffee and as Grace and I emerge for our morning slurry, neighbors are likewise bringing out the snowblowers.

The day becomes a big social hour and I don't mind so much because I'm also shoveling snow. I get caught up with my tenant and her son. I chat with my next door neighbor and pet his dog while his wife snaps the window-blinds from inside. I meet my neighbors across the street for the first time and ha! it's another gay couple. We all push each others cars out from the curb and shovel each others driveways. We all talk about cars and work and snowstorms and where we grew up.

As the temperatures fall to below zero, Gace and I finish the day watching movies on TV. (Well actually Grace sleeps.) Thinking back over the last two days, I realize maybe now there's only one season I don't like and that is Spring -- the brown months of incessant rain, mud and leaky basements.

I'm still at work when most people cleared out much much earlier today. You see we're having some blizzard, but I looked outside when it was still light and thought Oh Big Deal.

Maybe it's bad, but I'd wait and do other things while everyone else panics and gets behind the wheel of their car. I'll skid home alone.

So I stayed and got caught up on unessential items. First, I haven't been as johnny on the spot with my film festival work. Did you know I help out a film festival? The founder is a good friend of mine -- a total freak about Madonna -- and I'm helping organize a midwest tour of its "best of". I called a couple of people I'd earlier talked to and they had seemed interested. I only got their voicemail, but that's ok, it's all about keeping those lines of communication open.

Then, Trick has been instant messaging me. What to do? The second I kiss -- and only kiss! -- someone and I'm like Trick Who? I instantaneously lost interest. So I instant messaged, 'Trick, I'll have to give you your XXXmas present another time' and of course you end a statement like that with 'LOL'. Trick didn't answer back.

Then my mom called and I talked to her for awhile. Yes Mom I'm coming home for christmas, yes I'm aware the roads might still be bad, no I dont' know how long I'll stay, yes it will be fun yes I'll call before I leave.

Then I called a friend of mine who didnt' sound like she was doing so well and no, she's not doing well. So then I offered to come and visit, I have some free time! And I knew I would as soon as I heard her voice immediately pick up.

So then, just like that, I booked a flight to Washington DC. I'm going to be there next week for New Years' -- whoopee!

Then, I had to email my cousins who live in DC to let them know I'm coming.

But most of the day I spent writing. Yes, actually writing, and fiction, too -- not at all like the stuff you read in here ha hahh! It's for a new fiction submission contest that I learned about from a blogfriend and, well, I'm attempting to do the same.

The requirements are for 5,000 words and I typed out 3,000 today. It's unedited, meaning it's diahhrea (in more than one way no doubt). I had an idea going in, but to see it starting to take shape is actually a lot of fun. It involves three characters that are nothing like me, but maybe share thoughts like I do, and they all are hanging out at the mall. (Hah, and that is definitely not at all like me!) The characters are a gay couple and one of the gay couples' ex. Oh, I'm really psyched about it, I haven't written any fiction in a long time.

After I'm done with the story, I'll go back and start editing, which takes forever. If it's like these blog entries, by the time I'm done the story will be nowhere like it started or is now.

Supposedly there's 10 inches of snow on the ground since this morning. Hopefully everyone's off the road!! Grace will have fun hopping around, pushing her snout into the snow. Happy Christmas!

I was bored at work today. Actually, that's not true. I was in a weird mood.

So I left for a little while and drove to the $uper$aver Cinema. For $2.50, I saw Bridget Jones' Diary II. Not bad. I never saw Part I but now I might. It seemed like I was sometimes the only one laughing in the audience. Too bad life isn't like that movie, somebody who looks like Colin Firth and acts like his character sticking close.

Hmm, come to think of it... non-boyfriend looks a bit like Colin. Oh yes he does. A shorter, stockier Colin. In the movie they zoomed in on Colin's eyes and they are brown. A rich brown but brown nonetheless.

I hate it when people say their eyes are green. I always picture some bright emerald or forest green and nobody has eyes that color! At least not naturally.

But non-boyfriend has weird-colored eyes. They are not true blue; there is a bit o green in there. They're almost turquoise but that's too bright, and they're not dull enough to be teal. A turquoisey-teal I guess.

He told me once that people were intimidated by him because of his eyes. I guess he fixes them on folks at meetings and the like. I'm of the opinion that people who get intimidated have something to hide.

I would catch him looking at me. I noticed it the first time at an Oktoberfest over two years ago and I remember thinking "that's odd." As soon as I caught him, he'd glance away. At first I wasn't sure about it, but then folks would catch me by the arm and want to know what was going on. "Really?" I'd say, "I didn't notice anything. Maybe that's just him being him." They would look at me suspiciously and I would shrug.

Maybe I was in fact pretty clueless. We would meet for dinner or for drinks and I didn't think anything of it. Friends meet for drinks and dinner. But when it would come up I had drinks or I had dinner, the looks would be exchanged. "Oh c'mon you guys!" And they would say, "he never meets people for drinks; he never meets people for dinner."

I did not wrap my head around the fact it might be something else and by then I had had enough of Dayton and I moved.

Ordinarily if I had kissed someone in my car and maybe freaked them out, I might be freaked out that they were freaked out and doubled over wondering if I had made a mistake and what to do next. But I don't think I'm going to do anything. I'm not displeased at all about what happened; I'm glad! In fact I can't believe how calm I am about it. This kind of spontaneous and yet direct action is very unlike me.

I'll see him soon enough and if it turned out to be a terrible mistake I'll find that out soon enough, too.

Did I really type four paragraphs on eyes? Yes I did. This is a plane crash waiting to happen...

I just finished reading an eighteenth-century novel, Tom Jones, by Henry Fielding. It's considered a classic and I'd agree it was pretty good. I have half a mind to write this entry mimicing its style. I won't; but certain stylistic things (like the overuse of semicolons) might slip in.

There are certain things that, by themselves, are fun or at least no great shakes. Things like playing golf or drinking wine or going to parties and meeting people. But if there's an ulterior motive, these things change and are no longer fun -- it becomes a dreaded action.

Last night, I attended a holiday party, given by some local movers and shakers. Planning on attending was okay in itself, but attending with the idea of putting my face out there for a new job or a career turned the idea of this party into a journey to hell.

But I had no illusions about my motives and so had time to prepare. Armed with a new wardrobe, a pleasant disposition and a gift for the hostess, I showed up exactly one-half-hour after it was supposed to begin. And sure enough, the giant room was already filled with glittering human decorations mingling with the artwork and the catered buffet.

And things started well enough. My first victim had recently changed jobs and I approached him knowing this. How had he done it? He had not been looking, he said, until a former coworker called and asked him to interview. They had made him an offer he couldn't refuse.

How wonderful, fascinating, interesting and intriguing, I said. I was curious, I said, because I'm looking to change jobs. Oh really, he said, and what is your background? And I answered, presenting a summary of qualifications in a sentence or two; soundbytes that mentioned my education, my longevity at BIPC, and "a combination of product and technical management." A seed was planted. Enough said, we moved on.

The Hunter realized a disturbing element to the game. The room had many prizes, but the trend too often revealed managers and executives with 'former' in their title; 'consultants' about ten years older than myself and just as eager to hunt. The wine contained a bouquet of desperation with a swirling finish of bitterness.

The hunter also became the hunted. A man appeared, wearing a form-fitting sweater that revealed too much form, a receding chin and badly scarred face from adult acne. "Your drink," he said, taking hold of my glass, "what are you drinking." A gin and tonic, I said, and from that point on, my glass was never less than half full with an ever stronger alcohol content as he shadowed me from group to group.

I gave up on the networking and began to enjoy myself. I met two sets of cool people.

The first couple stood surveying the scene and our eyes met. After introducing myself, the woman, speaking with a rich accent, spoke as if she had been reading my mind: "I think it is insufferably cruel this corporate mindset of moving people from interesting places to a wasteland -- only to fire them a year later." To which her husband, also with an accent, added, "At first we thought this place was a prison, but we have lived here fourteen years now and think it okay." They were Swiss.

The second couple was wearing thrift clothes and were the most interesting looking people in the room. I bee-lined for them as soon as I could. The first thing they said to me was: We like your shoes. The second thing they said was: Who's this guy that's following you around? We must hang out, I said. They are both writers.

But the evening ended with a surprise.

I suppose I should have expected non-boyfriend to be there -- he knows the hosts and in fact its how I know the hosts -- but I hadn't thought of it.

"Want to get a drink?" I asked.
"Let's go." he said.

"Hey, where are you guys going?" cried the alcohol supplying shadow, running after us as we got into the elevator.

"The roof," said non-boyfriend as the doors were closing and punching 'L' on the console.

In a martini bar, drinking coffee, we continued our conversation from last week. "I think of you as a fine piece of china," I said. Non-Boyfriend said nothing to that and to other things. He just looked at me a lot. I suppose I did most of the talking.

But dropping him off at his car, I said, "Why don't you give me a kiss." And he did. He kissed me, then drew back. I said, "How bout another one." and we kissed again, twice, he drew back again. I said, "Oh c'mon, one more time." And non-boyfriend said, in a panic-y sort of voice, "No, I can't. I have to go. It's late. I have to go. I can't!" and he jumped out of my car and into his own.