Making a snowman...

Making a snowman is not half as romantic as it sounds. It is a serious business. But it was the romance of it which carried us outdoors, that cold morning after Christmas, when a nice strong flurry was working up outside. The snow was fresh and powdery and calling us to it. So armed in all the possible gear that we had outside and in storage, we headed out to that fresh morning. It was beautiful, it was thrilling, and that lasted all of 5 minutes. Pretty soon, the tips of little noses began to turn red and drip, and eyes smarted from the cold wind. Still, the romance of doing what they do in the books and the movies and have a picture perfect moment, held strong and we held ground.

The boys made little snowballs and played. Winkie lay flat and traced out a snow angel on the ground. Thambi tried to ride his car even in this ferocious setting. And I set about to build a snowman, armed with tons of romantic ideas about a figure that would tower out of the ground, stark and imposing in that wintry landscape, causing neighbours to pause and smile and say hello to him; carrots for his nose, twigs for his arms, a cheery smile, and a warm hat, maybe even gloves. I was all geared to carry the vision to fruition.

My first vision was completely obliterated as the rest of the family wouldn't help me for it, especially Winkie. Lazy that he can be, he said he would watch and "encourage" me! Bah! R tried to help, but was always waylaid by Thambi, who figured it was more fun to wedge his foot in one hard stomp right in the middle of the snowman's base. So of course, he had to be deflected from his destructive path, so I could get on with the construction.

By this time, my nose was runny, my hands were cold, despite the gloves, and my socks were damp. And while I worked, more snowballs were made and thrown, some even at me, and noses were wiped, and little scuffles broke out as well. And I worked, determined to make the masterpiece. 1/2 an hour in, and I was still making the base layer. I had to quickly give up my notion of a big tall guy who would arrest the landscape. He was going to be short. Very short. Midget sized even. And then I began the second layer. And however much I gathered the snow, and formed the shape and chiseled the excess, I just couldn't get it to look like the ones on the cheery Christmas cards. Those perfect little round mounds sitting snugly one on top of the other, the head mounting it. Mine looked like he had way too big a bottom, almost like an unseemly barrel. Oh well! That vision just flew out the window. *whoooosh*

By this time, doubts were beginning to creep in, and there was a distinct dip in the enthusiasm levels, it must have matched the sub zero conditions I was working in. How do people live in really cold places, I wondered. How do men climb mountains? How does the penguin live in Antarctica??? How did I ever get myself into this!!!!

At this point, another warm idea, with distinct stirrings of romance tickled my sense...that of a cup of hot melting chocolate, perhaps even scooped up from that irresistible chocolate river, in Willy Wonka's factory! Finish this idea first...I scolded myself sternly....see it through!

And that's just what I did. After about a good 45 minutes of scraping and shaping and moulding, my second layer was done and then the third for the head, and finally it was time to accessorise. R, who was by this time, warm and cosy back in the house, carved out a nice pointy carrot nose for me. For the eyes, and mouth and the buttons of the snow jacket, I dipped into a bounty which I had been saving up for years....the tamarind seeds, collected over many many sessions of extracting and cooking. We picked up some dried blades of bush grass for the arms, and R lent his hat for our guy's head. Which brings me to the most important thing of all...with all the character and personality that our snowman has assumed, he needed a name....and that's how Lou came to be.

Happy was the moment when I could freeze the already freezing moment with a *click* and finally head back in to thaw out my fingers and my nose. The souvenir from our little jaunt outside, was a nice little head congestion for me, which begged for a nice long 3 hour nap. Phew. Carving romance from virutality and pegging it to the realities of your own life is hard work. Very hard work.

Within half an hour, the flurries had covered Lou even more nicely and so complete was the obscurity that all you can see right now is a very ordinary mound of pyramid snow, with two blades of grass sticking out the sides. So was it worth all the time I spent outside freezing? Heck yes. It was worth every minute. And I'll tell you why. Inertia is a big thing to overcome these days. It has a very sneaky, unobtrusive way of creeping into your life and sapping you of the one thing that is essential to living....enthusiasm! So for a change, when R suggested we head outside, I said yes. And as a family, we were all in it together, one way or the other. Two, real life is not romantic. The things we read about and experience in an illusory world, nevertheless influence us very deeply, and it is essential at times, to bridge the gap between that world and this, and see how the glove fits. To take the romance of an idea, test it out in real life, see how it withers away in a grass root level, and yet end up stronger, because it is no longer just an idea anymore, that you didn't experience outright. It is now a very real customisation to your own life. And that is a precious find, even at 17 degrees F!