gratitude-a-thon day 2053: warm and safe

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Vacation re-entry is hard. Wait, HOLD ON, I don’t mean it’s hard like homelessness, or being sick and having no health insurance, or being a citizen of a president like that lying bag of lard we have in the Oval, or being a person of color in this country, or being an immigrant separated from his/her child, or being falsely accused of something you didn’t do and having to go to jail. I just mean, one minute you’re jet-setting around, intoxicated by things you haven’t ever seen before, enchanted by the warm sun, overindulging in good wine and HAM (have I mentioned the amount of ham I ate while I was away, probably not, because there is no way to properly express to you the amount of ham I ate while I was away), and the next minute you’re back to work, eating lightly dressed salad and slipping on the goddamned snow while you walk the dog. That kind of hard.

My husband and I talk about how winter is getting to us, but then we never really do anything about it (as if we could alter it in any way–ha!–I suppose we could try and contribute more to climate change, which of course DOESN’T EXIST). But we have discussed at length, how New England houses a bunch of overachievers and we wonder if it has to do with the weather. Here on the cold coast, winter is a time to do work, to hibernate and concentrate in a way that we don’t think people necessarily do when the weather is temperate (do you hear me, L.A.?) I think this is interesting, but I also think, fuck it, I would still be happy to work if you just gave me higher temperatures and sunny days.

Complaining about the weather is so boring, so privileged. I know this and yet, before I even can stop my tongue from wagging, I do it almost every day during the winter months. I have to stop. Ok, gratitude that I am warm and safe and my biggest problem today is the cold (there I go again, talking about the weather…..).

I’ve-had-it-a-thon day 537: The winter of my discontent

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Yes, in addition to mountains of snow, it’s 6. As in 1,2,3,4,5.SIX. And would you just look at Wed, Thu, Sat, Sun, Mon with the LITTLE SNOW FLAKE SYMBOLS. SERIOUSLY, people. Where are we ALASKA?

 

Stop me if I’ve already told you this– I HATE winter, and in particular ABHOR snow. Really, you never picked that up before? I must be more subtle than I thought. Well, winter is not my idea of fun. And this winter, this is the winter of my discontent (and I’m pretty sure I’m not alone).  I no longer ski, no longer skate, no longer have little kids, with whom I sled. After the first layer of white, which agreed, makes everything look fresh and new, creates lovely branch art, and reminds me of an idylllic New England scene from my childhood, I am good, cooked, finished with the season I used to call winter, but now just call EVIL.

But I’m not calling the shots here, because if I were, we’d have four seasons of sunshine. Nope, this is Mama Nature’s call. And she is all about white this season. And cold. She is currently into frigid, frigid, cold. If I didn’t know better, I’d say that lady was mad about something.

Anyway, the natives are restless over here. My daughter is bored out of her mind, and just wants her mid-terms to be over (they’ve been postponed twice, now. At this rate, they’re going to be finals). And I can barely walk the dog, since the snow is way higher than he is. We got more than another foot yesterday, which topped off the two feet we had. And yup, I just read we’re getting another three inches tomorrow.

I’m in a mood.

I’ve tried to embrace it, be one with it, meditate my way through it, get my gratitude on, but I feel like a prisoner, who wants to make a break. I have made sauce. I have made chicken soup. I cleaned out a closet. I even shoveled (which I am not supposed to be doing because of my back, but that’s how bored I was). But now, I just want to make a run for it. It’s like the punchline to the old Jewish American Princess joke that asks “What’s a Jewish American Princess’s favorite whine? Take me to Miami.” Yup. That’s how I feel. In fact, take me anyplace where it’s not hard to get out of your fucking house.

Today, I will re-boot, and take a big hot bath in gratitude. But first, I will complain. And be mad. And see how much real estate is in California.