Rassin' Frassin' Winter (Maggie)

That's my self portrait for today. Grumpy. I seem to have a dwarf thing going on lately. I've dealt with Sleepy, and then Grumpy and now Sneezy, and it's no fun, so I've morphed myself into Grumpy. I'm trying for Happy, but I'm afraid it might take some more drastic measures than usual to get me there.

The weatherman told me it was going to be 50 degrees here on Monday. I was excited about it all weekend long. I was going to go outside for a run. I haven’t been outside for a run in weeks and weeks, because I’m a wimp, (isn't there a dwarf named Wimpy?) and I just can’t handle it in the cold. Oh, I’ve tried. I bought the Under Armor and the face mask and the ear-muffins. (They’ve always been called ear-muffins in my family. One of the girls, when she was very young, actually thought that’s what they were, so we’ve called them that ever since.) So anyway, I did all that. But I can only get a half mile before my lungs feel like they’ve frozen from within, and you just can’t run if you can’t breathe.

And I can’t complain. I’m luckier than a lot of people. I’ve got a great Bowflex, a fabulous elliptical, a yoga ball, a pair of those stretchy bands, a set of handheld weights, a stair stepper, and about a hundred and twelve workout DVDs. I’ve got as many sets of workout clothes as I have blue jeans. And I have a lot of jeans!

And I use it. All of it. Since February hit, I’ve been really good about working out almost every day. But what I really want is to go outside in the sunshine in my shorts, slicked up with sunblock and smelling like coconut. So I was really looking forward to that fifty-degree Monday.

What the weatherguy failed to mention (or I failed to hear) is that the high temperature that day struck at about 6 a.m., and began to plummet immediately thereafter. By 8 it was in the 30’s. And there’s no sign it’s going to rebound any time soon.

Outside my windows, all I see is snow. The temperatures for the next seven days don’t even climb out of the twenties. There are those irritating little snowflake icons decorating the graphics for nearly every single day over the next week. My furnace burned five hundred bucks worth of fuel in the last three weeks. My water pipes have frozen up twice. My trash cans are overflowing because I’m so sick of the cold I can’t even bring myself to bundle up long enough to go outside and drag them to the curb. I can’t remember the last time I had to run a simple errand that I didn’t have to go outside and brush snow and scrape ice off my car and then let it warm up for fifteen minutes first. I’m tired of winter. Tired, tired, tired. I need sunshine. I need warmth. I need a beach.

The first snowfall of the year was beautiful and magical and nice. I remember taking pictures and blogging here about it. The ice storms have been glittery like melted diamonds on the trees. I took pictures of those too. But I’m done with pictures of winter. I want to photograph the first snowdrops and crocuses peeking up out of the soil. I want to run to the mailbox barefoot. Heck, I want to go everywhere barefoot.

I think this is what they call cabin fever, and while I am venting about it here, I’m not letting it consume me. I do know the value of staying positive, so I just shift my focus to things that make me feel good, and don’t focus on the cold. I put on sunblock every now and then so I can smell that summery, coconut smell. I look at the calendar and think how much closer spring is now than it was the last time I looked. I really shouldn’t live in the north. I really shouldn’t. There’s not one thing I like about winter. But my daughters are all here, and their kids are here, and as mad as everyone was about me moving a half hour further from them, think of the fireworks if I actually left this horrendous, tax-hungry state. So I have to think of other solutions.

And I think I have one. I have to get ahead a little bit more financially, but the second I do, I’m going to start looking for a tropical paradise I can make my own. I don’t have to live there, but I could go there for several weeks in the winter each year, and if I gave each of the girls a turn to use it, they couldn’t get mad, right?

But in the meantime, I think I need a road trip. And I think I’m going to do it alone. At least, that’s how I’m feeling today. I’d like to flip open a map and plot a course down the east coast with no firm destination in mind. I’d like to just put my finger on a date on the calendar, take the dogs to the kennel, and leave. I’d like to drive until I see something that looks interesting, and then stop and check it out. Find an out of the way place to spend the night. Eat breakfast as I watch the sun rise over the ocean, then go for a run in the sand. Stop at every theme park or museum I see. Take a boat tour if the mood strikes me. And just keep driving. If I take the laptop I can work on the road. If I take the cell phone, everyone who needs to reach me can, if I choose to turn the damn thing on at all, which I might not.

So in short, I’ve got a bad case of cabin fever, and I’m dreaming about running away from home. I might not actually do it, but then again, maybe I will. It would probably do me a world of good.

On the up side, I only have one more column to write this month. And then it will be March. March. One more month till April.

Hey, readers, if you have any suggestions to help get past the winter blahs without chucking it all and running away from home, post them here. I’m wide open to suggestions.

Maggie