Sunday, March 05, 2006

I love winter. I love winter.

Supposedly if you repeat something enough it becomes the truth. Or at least somewhat believable. It’s not working. I don’t love winter. I don’t love biting wind chill, black ice, rising home-heating fuel prices, sopping mittens and jackets, damp smelly boots, static cling, and the dry air inside my house. Even with an air exchange, the indoor air we breathe is bone-dry and leaves our nasal passages as waterless and parched as the trusty catch-all pan covered in burnt cheese. I'm sorry you had to read that. My tight itchy skin drinks in lotion like a point guard glugging gatorade in the fourth quarter of the state final. And my feet? Forget walking barefoot around the house. All the natural oils are drawn out by the carpet, leaving my once well-manicured feet as rough and calloused as goat hooves. I don’t actually have feet in the winter; I have hooves. Again, I apologize for the detailed visual. And don’t get me started on the state of my hair. The poodlesque mop is pleading for humidity. Anything. I’ve all but soaked it in vegetable oil.

Can’t really take long walks along the hilly country road on which I live. Crazy winter drivers and all. Can’t take the wee ones indoor swimming because of the icicles that form on their earlobes and nostrils just from the walk back to the car. Sledding? Yeah okay, we can do that. But the papoose finds his snowsuit insufferable so I usually just watch the fun from the living room window. Snowmobiling? Fun, but because of my freakish tendency to visualize limbs and flesh ripping off in horrific catastrophes, I’m usually unable to relax and savor the ride. *Whine*

I’m exaggerating. It’s just the month of March is such a tease. As water drips from the rooftops to form mocking mirror pools of pseudo-spring, I feel hopeful. And just as I head outdoors to feel the sultry sunlight and listen to the sweet watery orchestra… starts snowing. The effects of being holed-up five months out of twelve are wearing on me. The approaching move five hours south is long-awaited.


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