Winter musings...

I think my previous post was a scream to no one in particular that I am tired of winter. As a general rule, I detest poetry with few exceptions. ee cummings is an exception (Pablo Neruda is the other and this old book of children's poetry Bob has lying around is winning me over.) Every time I think of spring, I think of that poem, of puddles and happiness. And I just want winter to be OVER. In the long-gone single days, winter was a sign to put on more clothes when jogging (not too many because you don't want to overheat...) or just go skiing. I stink at skiing, but I love it. I learned to ski when I was about 24 during a media day event at Heavenly Ski Resort at Lake Tahoe. I was the dumb reporter who showed up in jeans because I didn't know any better. (Yes, jeans at Tahoe's premier ski resort. I was too stupid to realize people were looking down on me.) I'd like to think I had some natural talent, but I arrived at skiing far too late in life to do much more than clumsy snowplows down intermediate runs. I loved it anyway.

I say "loved" because I haven't gone skiing since 2006 when I tried to follow Sophie down a black diamond run and did some fantastic acrobatics down the slope. I'm considering giving away my skis (which are too long for me anyway...) With children, winter starts to make me feel claustrophobic. I bundled Jack and Ellie up one day to go play in the snow. It took about 40 minutes to get everyone wrestled into their clothes and after 18 minutes, Ellie had to come back in. It was only 18 minutes because I refused to let her give up after something closer to five. I was so stir crazy last week, I handed Bob the baby and told him I'd be back in an hour. I laced up my running shoes and took the dog on a 4-mile run in 28 degree weather. It was so cold my muscles (as they are...) kept cramping, but that one run has kept me going through the rest of the week. As much time as we've spent inside, you'd think my house would be spotless. Hmmm. So, now I don't ski and I don't find enough time to clean. Hardly seems fair.

The kids are as stir crazy as I am. Bob said the words "take a walk" today and Ellie, recovering from a cold, snotty nose and a cough, bolted for her shoes and coat and was at her dad's feet in seconds. ANY excuse to get out. ANY. Even half a block in the wind (I'll probably regret that...). Better than nothing. Winter, GO AWAY. I want to putter in my gardens, the flowers out front and the vegetables in the back. I swear I will file for a permit and put a fence up this year around my front yard. I want my fresh garden spinach. I WANT to dust dirt from the sandbox off my children. I want Vitamin D from the sun.

But it's still February. And because it is still winter, we are using our wood stove. Bob likes to say we're "off the grid" to which I respond, "You know, except for the fridge and the TV and the freezer and the lights and the computer and..." A wood stove is a great way to keep a house nice and toasty. Usually, our home is somewhere in the 80s. I like it that way. However, tonight Bob decided to completely load the stove while we were out for 1 1/2 hours so the house wouldn't get cold. He forgot to turn the damper down and when we got home, it was 96 degrees inside. I know I was just complaining about the cold, but 96???? The kids were sweating as I put them to bed and he's upstairs asleep with a fan in the window trying to cool the upstairs off.

Homes are easier to manage when husbands don't stick their noses where they don't belong. Like in the wood stove. I would never have let it get over 88.