Welcome to My Happy Place

I looked out my window this morning and snow was falling. Again. STILL. I’m pretty sure that snow has fallen every single day for the past two weeks. I like snow, but I’m tired of it. I’m tired of shoveling it. I’m tired of driving through it. I’m tired of stepping over it. I’m tired of my trash can and recycling bin being buried under it. I’m tired of clearing it off my car. 

I’m going to my happy place. Want to join me?

The water park down the street is one of my happy places. When the weather is nice, we walk there (okay, usually we drive). Sometimes we meet some friends there. Sometimes we make new friends there. We all stretch our legs and breathe in the fresh air and bask in the sunshine. Where there is sun and water and small children, you can’t help but be happy.

Vacation is another of my happy places. Whether it’s camping in the woods with the whole family, taking in the sights of the Big Apple with my sweetheart, or even taking a day off to do something on my own away from the usual grind, a vacation rejuvenates me, refreshes me, and makes me happy.

Dressing up is my happy place. Whether it’s for a stage production, for a fancy evening on the town, or for a silly themed party, breaking out the hats and the nice dresses and the fabulous shoes and the good jewelry makes me happy. Especially when I’m on the arm of my equally well-dressed sweetheart.

 Visiting with family makes me happy. Whether it’s close family that we see often, or far-flung family whose visits are a special treat for their rarity, whether it’s family by blood or family by marriage, I love getting together with my family. My family is filled with funny, interesting, caring, wonderful people. They are not only my family, they are also my friends. My family, both immediate and extended, is my happy place.

And last, but certainly not least, my home is my happy place. I love my home because of what is in it, and because of who is in it. It’s is filled with memories and with love. It is where the story of my life up to now has led, and it is where my next chapter is beginning. How can that not be a happy place?

Baby, It's Cold Outside!

I was born and raised in New England, so frigid temperatures in January do not come as a surprise to me. The cold pretty much comes with the territory. But that doesn’t mean I like it. I can handle it, but I don’t like it.

I don’t like it when my car groans and protests when I try to start it in the morning, and when gripping the steering wheel feels like gripping an iceberg, and when the car seat is crispy and stiff from the cold.

I don’t like it when the walkway ices over, and the front door is frozen shut, and the roads are dotted with patches of treacherous black ice.

I don’t like it when the wind rattles the windows, and pulls the front door out of my hands, and howls down the chimney.

I don’t like it when my hands get stiff, and my feet ache from the cold, and my nose gets red and runny.

But there are things about the cold weather that I do love.

I love all the wonderful comfort foods we enjoy during the cold weather: chicken pot pie, and lasagna, and hot oatmeal, and chicken noodle soup, and shepherd’s pie, and grilled cheese sandwiches, and chili, and beef stew.

I love all the cozy clothes we snuggle in during the cold weather: fuzzy slippers, and heavy sweaters, and elegant boots, and stylish scarves, and flattering leggings, and sleek wool coats, and warm mittens, and jaunty hats.

I love the ways we keep warm during the cold weather: sitting by the fire, wrapping in a warm blanket, holding a steaming mug of coffee or tea, tucking a heating pad between the sheets, soaking in a warm scented tub.

I love the things we find to do to keep out of the cold weather: playing board games, reading books, telling stories, cooking together, doing art projects.

Hmm, maybe I don’t dislike the cold quite as much as I thought I did!

Spring Me

It’s official: I am sick of winter.

I’m sick of snow. I’m sick of ice. I’m sick of cold.

I’m sick of snowplows and salt trucks and sanders and snowblowers and shovels.

I’m sick of mopping up dirty, salt-filled puddles of melted snow from my kitchen floor. I’m sick of starting to get ready for any trip 15 minutes sooner than usual so I can pack the kids into their mittens and hats and boots. I’m sick of scraping the ice off my car. I’m sick of worrying that my kids will fall on the ice. I’m sick of waiting anxiously for my husband to make it home from work during a snowstorm.

I’m sick of winter. I’m ready for spring.

It doesn’t help that many of my wiser friends are currently in warmer climes, whether for a well-timed vacation or because they were smart enough to move out of the snow belt. And it doesn’t help that they are posting photos of lovely tropical scenes involving palm trees, beaches, swimming pools, people wearing bathing suits and shorts, and NO SNOW.

Somebody spring me.

I need to see some crocuses and snowdrops poking their noses through a snowbank. I need lovesick chickadees calling to each other and cardinals warbling to their lady loves and robins chasing worms. I need daffodil buds and fuzzy pussy willows and forsythias exploding with golden blossoms.

But since I’m not expecting to see any of those outside my window any time soon, I guess I’ll have to settle for some virtual spring. 

Whew. I feel better now. Guess I’ve been sprung!