Saturday, January 14, 2012

Winter Sloth

Editors Note: As I finished writing this entry, Madison is currently expecting 6-8 inches of snow. Big. Heavy. Sigh.

I had a tarot card reading a number of years ago in New Orleans. For $20 a gal with heavy eye make-up and lots of bangle bracelets at Madame LaVeaus House of Voodoo gave me a peek into my future. In addition to being wildly entertaining, I received a gold Mardi Gras coin (of only the finest gold plastic) and an index card with some notes about my reading. I still have the card tacked up inside my work cubicle.

“Summer is best” is what is says on my card in addition to the “8 of clubs”. I can’t remember what the significant of the 8 of clubs is supposed to mean. But I do recall the bit about summer. According to her, I am most productive in summer. That also means, in winter I am part sloth. True story.

Seasonal Affectiveness Disorder is the true diagnosis but if you read between the lines it’s nothing more than the winter blahs or hibernation like tendencies. Most winter days I can barely haul myself out of bed on time for work. On winter weekends I sleep in too much and then migrate to the couch to perfect the art of couch-potato-dom. An art I can do very well by the way.

Some winters are better than others. Cliché but true. Cold winters with tons of snow are the worst. The winters that have 100+ inches of snow beyond torturous. Cold, snowy and crappy driving. This winter is respectable. It’s been mild and snow free. I have seen pockets of sun. I’m still sloth like but only moderately slothy intead of full on sloth.

Sloth-dom also negatively impacts my ability to plan for the summer art festival season. I should be using the “off season” to plan. But motivation is low and when I finally feel like planning I’m scrambling in the 11th hour. A known fault but difficult to change. In addition to sleeping too much and lolling about, I tend to carbo load with all manner of comfort foods. Mashed potatos work best. So does homemade bread. With butter.

With the help of my neighbor I’ve been forcing myself off the couch and outside to take in some fresh air. So far a reasonable proposition as previously mentioned due to the mild weather. But mother nature has cruel tendencies and its only a matter of time until the temperature drops like a stone and the words “frigid” are used in the daily forecast.

Repeat after me. Summer is best.

Saturday, January 7, 2012

Survival and Resolutions

Hallejulah. It’s over. Done. Finished. The holidays are past me.

I survived. Barely.

My house is de-Christmastized.

Tree down. Lights put away.

All that remains in my too tight pants, a looming Macy’s bill, and a long joyless January and February.

I need to reintroduce myself to my tread mill. Apparently 10 days off work includes an unwritten but obligatory over-indulgence rule. Egg-nog, bacon wrapped dates (heaven), roasted olives (more heaven), salted caramels, bacon wrapped tenderloin, cocktail shrimp, assorted cheeses and a deep dive into the brandy slush (no life preserver needed).

Now my pants are tight.

Or maybe they just shrunk? Yeah! That’s it. The ol’ Maytag screwed up my pants. Bastards.

Stupid brandy slush.

But it wasn’t stupid. It was oh-so-tasty and fruity brandy-slushy-liciousness that provided much needed coping mechanisms at otherwise stressful family gatherings where sedation is not only required, it’s encouraged.

Now I could take the “New Year’s Resolution” way out of the too tight pants debacle, and tape a few well articulated New Year’s Resolutions to my fridge about how I will eat, drink and spend less and, of course, exercise more.

But who’s kidding who. Haven’t you been paying attention? I’m the living example of ‘on-the-wagon-off-the-wagon’ when it comes to diet and exercise. Never mind the spending. That’s the whole other litany of blog entries I haven’t even tackled yet.

The only resolutions I have a snowballs change of successfully completing include drinking more champagne and perfecting the pork chop (mmm, I just love a good pork chop! Pigs are so tasty!)

Or spa treatments.

I could resolve to go to the spa more, get a few more massages, pop for facials or change up my toenail polish color more often while talking myself out of another round of abdominal exercises.

Perhaps the best resolution includes resolving to accept my weaknesses for what they are, work with what I have, and move on to tasting more kinds of tequila. Or I could simply resolve to do what I need to do to survive the holidays each year.

Wait. I’ve perfected that one. Brandy slush and bacon wrapped dates.

Check.