I am wearing fleece again. My toes are cold. And I am drinking coffee at one in the afternoon because its too early for wine, but I need something that is warm. Just bone cold, and tired of the gray. It is a good thing that yesterday was such a flying success, followed by a pleasant afternoon dabbling in antiques and staging the great Fashion Show event with my wife. As today is just a mess for doing anything outside.
Yes, I’m a burly man – at least in my minds eye – and I am involved in a Fashion Show. Make fun all you want, doesn’t make much difference to me, as seeing my wife and her friends succeed in their small businesses is such a reward to me. And it becomes an escape from my own mind to just sit and observe what they create.
Which brings me to food. And I suppose this combination of words on a computer screen is the result of the terrible hunger I am feeling right now and some of the enticing smells coming from the kitchen. Yesterday evening, we could smell the neighbors cooking steak. Our mouths watered and with the moderate temperatures, it just felt like summer. So I vowed that despite the weather today, I would be cooking steak. This also means that my lovely wife is conjuring up something pretty special with spuds. I am not sure exactly what they’ll look like or taste like, but you really can’t go wrong with a spud.
See, it is the little things now that add to our cheer. It’s taking a day in February that temperatures get above freezing and making the most of it at the airport, or just playing in the muddy yard with the dogs. Then the next day, just let it continue, the feeling to spring and the smells and taste. Uncovering the grill today was an act of defiance against the cold gray skies and spitting wet snow. We refuse to let this lingering winter give our souls a black eye one more time. We spit back in the face of the polar vortex, and though that spit may freeze mid-air, becoming a gross projectile for the dogs to chase, the point is that we stand firm in our belief that the winter is coming to an end.
Sure, there are many things I still will refuse to do that come easily in the spring and summer. Like washing the car. And I am not likely to shed this fleece yet or hide the thermal underwear. But I will no longer hibernate or wear a sour face every time I look at the weather report.
Oh, and for those work mates of mine who yesterday decided to blow up my inbox with ridiculous messages, you missed the opportunity to enjoy the day. And that’s your fault. I didn’t reply because I had better things to do than sit in front of the computer wondering what the Tuesday 9 AM meeting agenda should be. I’ll figure that out on Monday. Just chill. Make a boat drink. Sure, you may need to wear some warm and fuzzy slippers when sitting on your back deck; scarf, coat, thermal blanket, armed with snow shovel and ice scrapers, but for goodness sake leave the email alone and be merry!
I confess to having multiple personality disorder. I can be the boss. I can be the scientist. But when I am home, I am home. Nothing else matters except what we do under this roof, just my wife, dogs, and our dreams.
So we dream big about spring.