I am usually one of the first (and sometimes only) people to welcome Midwest Winters with open arms. I spend most of November/December waxing poetic about Big Sweaters! Hot cocoa! Grey Rainy Days! and twirling in slow-mo pretending to be Winona Rider.
But come mid-January I realize that we are barely through the thick of it and tomatoes are half a year away I am cold.
Luckily this is just about when my parents, who are masters of planning and foresight, Boyfriend and I take our annual vacation. A week of reading until my eyes fall out, sleeping whenever the hell I feel like it and soaking in sun and salt and warmth until I feel as full and re-hydrated as a raisin in a good Biryani is usually just what I need to see me through to March (or, because it’s Ohio, occasionally June.) This year proved to be no exception, hence, why I disappeared for a few weeks- One week to panic because OMG IT’S BARELY JANUARY AND I CAN’T FEEL MY HANDS, and one week of recovering someplace sunny and green.
And now I’m back! And yeah, it’s still Winter, but at least I’ve had visual evidence the sun does still exist- I’m not living in some nightmarish, apocalyptic world with Cillian Murphy as my only hope. Maybe now I can crawl out from under this pile of cats and blankets and start Making More Things because, as I’ve learned this year, Winter is no time to hibernate.