Sometimes, I find it really disheartening to go back and look at my life through this blog. I certainly don't mean for that to happen. I try to write here, and write as often as I can, and I want to paint a complete picture of my life, but I don't, not really. And it's not just the lapse in time between posts (although, that certainly can't help matters. I mean, just look at that last date. I lost a month. A whole month. Rather incomplete, wouldn't you say?). But a big part of why the picture is only partial is because of the way I censor myself. When I'm not happy, or have exciting news to share, or a recipe to brag on, pictures to post, or cakes to talk about, I just can't get motivated to write. I can't imagine that anyone would want to read about how frustrated I am. Or when I'm sad, or bored, or whatever. But that's me too, isn't it? I used to be able to do that. But honestly, since The Great Firing of 2008, it's as though I don't want to admit to myself, the world, whoever, that I'm still sad. A lot. I'm happy a lot too, and I'm trying, every day, to be positive. But I have to be honest about it when I'm not. So. Yeah. February is the lost month on this blog you guys, because I hate it. February Sucks.
Is it me, or was this the Winter That WOULD NOT END? I've never been so happy to see March in all my life. And I hate March. Well, that's not fair...I don't trust March. March taunts you with promises of sunshine and spring, and then it snows or turns bitterly cold out of nowhere just when you were starting to feel hopeful and alive again. But I know that about March, and we've come to terms with it, March and I, however bitterly I have accepted these terms.
But February? February was just brutal this year, wasn't it? If I honestly just don't trust March, then I honestly, truly do hate February. I try, I try every single year, but I don't get very far. And I am thankful every single year that February is the shortest month, 'cause damn if I could have made it another couple of days. (I think Sunday had the best plan, go ahead and give birth in February, and give yourself a reason to love it). This last part of Winter is just unbearable. Spring is in the air, it's on everyone's lips, I can practically taste it. But outside it's still dark and it's still cold and it's still dreary and BLAH AND OH. MY. GOD. IS IT OVER YET?
Which is why this weekend was a golden beam of perfection, burning straight into my core and melting my aching little heart of ice. This weekend was birds singing and sun shining. It was dogs and cats rolling in the grass. It was sharpened mower blades and raking out the flower beds. It was sleeping in and brunch and afternoon catnaps. This weekend was perfect. And it was just what the doctor ordered.