Thursday, January 27, 2011

Because New Englanders are going to hate me ...

But I really do miss the snow this year. I've lived in Georgia since April of 1996. I haven't seen more than an inch of snow at one time since then. Growing up in New England I saw my fair share of snow. My dad always asks me if I remember the Blizzard of '78. Nope. I was 4 years old. I do know the story that we went across the street and got some Kentucky Fried Chicken though.

I know New Englanders are hating the snow. There's been storm after storm after storm, and they all seem to dump copious amounts of the white stuff at one time. I get it. I remember being about 19 years old, and that winter we had more than 100 inches of snow. And that was on Cape Cod, who usually gets rain.

But, after all these years in the South, I sometimes do miss a good snowstorm. I miss being a kid, waking up at the ass crack of dawn to see if school was cancelled. I miss that night before feeling of making plans as a teenager with all my friends, prepping for the snow day. I miss having that feeling of togetherness with my family during a blizzard, because none of us could go anywhere. That "let's hunker down, make a fire, eat some candy, read some crappy magazines, watch t.v., etc." feeling is always pretty cool.

What I like the most is watching the snow fall, watching it accumulate on the pavement, the cars, the roofs of the houses nearby. I really think falling snow is pretty. Sure, a week later when it's brown and dirty it's not so pretty. There is really nothing I like better than a beautiful snowfall at dusk.

So, New Englanders, while I can feel your pain about ALL THAT DAMN SNOW, know there are a few of us displaced Yankees who are sort of jealous.

Tuesday, January 25, 2011

Because I'm embracing my role...

That would be my role as a housewife, homemaker, domestic engineer, whatever you'd like to call me (besides Bitch, although I have answered to that once by accident). I've finally started to find my footing as someone who can cook. I'm not sure why I always found it so intimidating. I'm experimenting with new things - veggies and meats and spices and everything else.

I cannot wait for Springtime so I can plant stuff. I'm feeling all Mother Earth-y and want to grow all kinds of stuff - cucumbers and squash and beans and everything else I can. I want to cook with said food.

I'm trying hard to be a good wife and mom, and feed these boys. Adam is a great husband - he'll eat anything I put in front of him, and grin even if it tastes like a hockey puck. Addison is good about trying new things. Hell, the kid has me cook him salmon and broccoli and I even got out my tweezers to take the bones out of it. If all else fails, the dogs will pretty much eat anything. (The new dog has been caught eating her own excrement. I'm sure anything I make will taste better than that. And yes, she's gross.)

Tuesday, January 18, 2011

Because I realized this ...

I'm not looking for sympathy, or encouragement, or anything like that. I'm self-assured enough to not be that type of person.

What I realized the other day is that I seemingly have no discernible talent. I can't make things out of wood, or sew a quilt. I can't draw to save my life. I can't sing, or play an instrument. I can't take really nice pictures.

I've been searching myself and thinking, pondering, wondering if I do have some sort of talent. Maybe I do, and it's been dormant my whole life. Maybe I am just a really ordinary person. Maybe I still need to discover it. I think that it would make a really neat blog, like "Finding My Talent" or something like that, a quest to find out if I really do have any sort of gift.

Until then, I'm going to be thinking and thinking about it.

Tuesday, January 11, 2011

Because I like these days ...

I know everyone likes to complain about the cold, snowy, icy, what-have-you kind of days the entire country seems to be experiencing lately. Me, well, I like this weather.

I like the cold, gray days. I like to ask Adam to build me a fire so I can lay down in front of it and absorb the warmth (and dry skin). I like wearing sweatpants, a cozy sweatshirt, and thick wool socks. I'm lucky in the fact that I don't have to go out in the cold, or the snow (because I live in southeast Georgia.) I have no right to complain. It's January. It's winter. I'm making the most out of it, because in a few short months, the hot, sticky weather will be here, and then everyone will be complaining about that.

I'll enjoy the winter season as long as it will last.

Friday, January 7, 2011

Because these people bug me ...

I've been trying hard to be a more positive person, to roll with the punches instead of trying to fight everything. I think I've been doing a pretty good job of it, and life is a lot less stressful. What I've figured out, though, is that there is a certain breed of people who I will never, ever like. I bet you know one or two or even more, because they're certainly rampant. They are the "I'm better than everyone else because _____" (fill in the blank.)

You know those people who make you feel bad because you happen to like Justin Beiber's music? The ones who say, "Oh, if you don't listen to the new record by I Pull My Pud you suck so bad." It seems like everyone tries to be original, to not be mainstream. That's fine, but you don't have to try to make yourself feel awesome by making others feel bad about what they listen to.

Or read. Or eat. Or drink. I don't care if I won $190,000,000 - me and my taste buds would still be eating at McDonald's.

It seems some "trashy" things are cool to own up to - watching Jersey Shore, for example. I don't watch it, but if I did, I'd own up to it. I'm reading Snooki's book. Go ahead and mock me, I don't care. I read all kinds of books. I just finished the Stieg Larsson trilogy and really liked the books. I love Willa Cather and I love Jackie Collins books.

People need to get over themselves. If you want to drink your Keystone Light while reading Cervantes, you go for it. If you want to listen to New Kids on the Block while discussing Beethoven's works, who the hell cares? Like Joseph Campbell is reported to have said, "Follow your bliss." I'll add to that and say, "Follow your bliss, and fuck anyone who gives you any shit about it. They're douchebags, yo."