I know, I know. I
have been seriously incognito, you guys.
I’m sorry. I got that big boost
from the ecard thing and then promptly disappeared. Uncool. Here’s my
excuse. You ready?
It’s winter.
It’s effing cold out. And I’m going nowhere in this weather and doing nothing. You know what I have been doing instead of
writing this blog? I have been napping,
curling up under a blanket, reading a novel, and perfecting chicken wing and
pot pie recipes. And not really showering
that often. And wearing a lot of
stretchy, cozy garments. And drinking
bourbon, because that shit really warms you up from the inside out. Tea would do the same thing, I guess, but
where’s the fun in that? During the day
while the kids are at school… sure, cleaning the house. Cooking. Grocery shopping. Yawn.
You know, the usual. I made some
curtains for my daughter’s room. I have
been volunteering in the kiddos’ classrooms.
But mostly? Napping. Curling up.
Hibernating.
In my meager defense, I did start taking a weekly Pilates
class with a friend. Her husband conspired with mine to get us both
gift cards for Christmas to a Pilates studio nearby that they knew we
liked. And as weird and loaded as it should
be for a husband to get a wife a workout gift certificate as a gift, it was
actually really sweet and thoughtful, because both hubbies know that my friend
and I haven’t gotten to spend as much time together since our kids went to
school and play dates dwindled. This is
a weekly date, AND we get to feel all virtuous because we worked out before
assuming our usual pattern of eating grilled cheese and going junking at
Goodwill.
I have gone to Zumba, but not as often as I would like. There is a new African dance class starting
that I’m excited to try, but it meets on Saturdays, which is kind of the kiss
of death. If I make that once a month,
it will be a miracle. I know that the
more I work out, the more energy I will have.
I know that in theory. Yup, I
should really work out more. I need to
get on that.
But y’all, it’s COLD.
And when you come out of a workout all sweaty and the sweat freezes on
your skin and in your hair, dude, that part sucks! And it’s just so warm here under my
blankie. My tootsies are toasty in
fuzzy socks. I have an entire series of
novels ahead of me that I haven’t read in a decade, because the last one
finally came out, so I have to remember what happened in all of the earlier
ones and then read the last few that will be new. The happiest place on earth is not Disneyland. It’s under my blanket. With a good book and a good bourbon. I’m not seasonally affectively depressed. I’m happy!
And toasty warm. With a book and
a little buzz. Seriously, happiest
place on earth.
But here’s the thing. It’s kind of hard to blog about doing
fuck-all for two months. Maybe I should
revert to my poetry of the mundane and do an ode to my fuzzy socks? Maybe I should write some bourbon
reviews? Or I could tell you guys how
to cook awesome chicken wings without deep frying them. But I’m also pretty motivated to just curl
back up under my blankie, you know?
I don’t have much practice at making myself write. I do nanowrimo, so I make myself write for
that, but I have never had to make myself blog. Usually, this stuff flies out of me whether I want it to or
not. I blog because, if I don’t, my
facebook updates get too long and wordy.
But it’s been almost a month.
So, um… yeah. I’m not going to
“put it on” for you guys. We’re all
friends here. We’ve laughed together. We’ve cried together. So I’m just gonna tell it like it is. I’m hibernating here under my blanket until
I look outside and something is green.
Join me. It’s warm. I have extra pairs of fuzzy socks. And tea.
Where tea totally equals bourbon.
