"Wise is the woman who cherishes each season and cheerfully anticipates the next."
author unknown
CFB posted that on her blog earlier today and while our lives these days are so different and far apart (she's expecting twins in a matter of weeks!), the statement really resonated with how I've been feeling lately.
The snow in our yard comes up to my knees, I've forgotten what it feels like to wear real shoes, and I'm drinking three to four cups of tea a day to keep warm, but I love it. I'm so content to sit by a window with a book or my crochet that I'm almost grateful for the cold. If the view outside were green and taunting, I'd feel guilty about hiding away indoors. I'm learning to embrace the grey. Spring will seem almost magical at this point.
When the snow gets heavy, I walk the neighborhood bundled beneath scarves and two pairs of gloves, camera 'round my neck. The neighbors shoveling sidewalks and driveways look at me like I'm nuts. I tromp through the drifts, jeans tucked into my fake uggs, and walk until it hurts to breathe. I don't even mind the shoveling; between clearing the driveway and hauling a 30 pound baby around every day, I don't need to exercise.
I'm making the most of winter. Whiling away the doldrums with colorful yarn, actual books and fanfiction, and leftover red velvet cupcakes. Trying not to get upset about things like DPW failing to salt the roads, or when getting stuck in an un-shoveled driveway does $200 worth of damage to my car.
I'm also attempting to dig my way out of the gloom that has become my life without school. School had very tangible visible results - you read and write and get a grade. But I don't really feel like I'm doing anything productive these days. Madre just gives me a funny look when I become irrationally excited about the most mundane accomplishments.
I get up early, nanny for 10 hours, and come home with just enough energy to eat a piece of string cheese for dinner and crawl in bed with mindless reading. In short, I can feel all those years of hard earned education slowly disappearing from the recesses of my mind. So I taught myself to crochet, I spent 10 hours one Sunday painstakingly making authentic French baguette from scratch, I'm attempting to write an actual story for the first time in nearly a decade. I want to learn French again, get my clarinet back and figure out how to make music again, I need to find a way to make GRE prep actually make sense amid the chaos. I kind of feel like I'm in the waiting room for the rest of my life, like someone hit the pause button on my progress. But the economy sucks and bills must be paid.
So I contentedly crochet potholders and learn how to be happy in a new place, and wait for something else to come along.
~RLM
]]>
