I haven't posted in awhile because, well "if you can't say somthin' nice...". I'm having some trouble with the late winter blues. I'm dreaming of putting flowers in my pots, taking the kids on crisp, spring walks, sitting with my hubby sipping evening cocktails on our patio while the kids kick the ball around in the back yard. I'm even looking forward to hollering at the kids for taking all of the dishes outside to play Little House and leaving them full of muddy water on the porch. Listening to the neighborhood kids laughing in the yard until way past bedtime. I can't wait to pack away coats and hats and not have to dig them back out again. To have a few months of relief from finding socks for everyone every day.
I love spring and summer more than anything. I start looking forward to it the day after Christmas, which unfortunately is only a few days into winter. Some good wine and Top Chef can keep depression at bay for a little while, and in February I fool myself into thinking I'm almost there so there's a resurgence of momentary optimism, but by March...I 'm just all done. I just lose my will to live. Then this morning I went downstairs and found that while I was gone with the girls all afternoon and evening yesterday this is what was happening to my house:
It's very discouraging and it doesn't help very much. I figured I should go and try to find my reason for living. The good news is that I found this:
I also found this:
And then it wasn't long before I saw this part of his neck:
I hate winter, but there is something alive, undeniably vital, about the raging need for smooches that came over me. Every season passes eventually and in the meantime I guess I have some pretty great things to keep me busy. I think I'll hang in there for a little while longer.