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winter sucks

January Exhausts Me.

by Amber on January 28, 2013

Last year, when winter failed to arrive, I worried. I worried about global warming, about my not-as-fuel-efficient-as-it-could-be car, about my less than stellar recycling efforts…

I worried winter would never return.

That we had entered the beginning of the end (not in a religious sense. Just in an environmental sense).

I even found myself wishing for snow.

Well, guess what? Winter remembered where it lives this year. We’ve had snow, freezing cold temperatures, and day after day of  gray, sunless days.

And now I remember how much I hate winter.

I really, really hate it.

It saps the energy from my bones. The happiness from my day. And the words from my brain.

Did I mention I hate winter?

I’d be happy to hibernate until spring, but unfortunately, humans aren’t wired that way.

So instead I’ll whine and moan and groan the days away. And eventually? Spring will come again.

I hope.

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Cold. In Five Senses.

by Amber on January 13, 2012

I forgot what real cold is like. I always do.

In the humid heat of July, as sweat drips down my back and off my toes, I try to remember what being cold feels like. I try to re-create the chill, to feel it in my bones.

But I can’t. It’s just not possible.

I think I do. I think about how the wind whips across your face and snakes down the back of your neck. How your feet crunch wetly in the snow. How your skin cools and your nose brightens. And I’m sure I’ve captured it.

But that’s not what real cold is.

Real cold is that first gasp of air when you emerge in the morning. The one that tastes metallic and slightly tangy in your mouth. The one that burns down into your lungs, freezing the invisible little hairs in your nose.

Real cold is the shiver that remains in the meat of your thighs and the small of your back, even after hours and hours huddled under warm blankets.

Real cold is the blood shining through the new cracks in your hands and lips. The pink and white tightness of the scales on your knuckles.

Real cold is the smell of ice, salt and burnt tire rubber mixing sourly in parking lots gray with slush.

Real cold sparkles brightly, rejoicing in its cruelty.

It can’t be remembered. Only endured.

But that’s not all real cold is about.

It’s the earthy smell of fireplaces crackling merrily.

It’s the liquid velvet taste of hot chocolate on your tongue and the salty goodness of chicken soup in your throat.

It’s the sound of popcorn crunching and pillow fort building.

It’s evenings snuggled on the couch and  afternoons lazing about.

Once the frenetic pace of summer returns, it’s impossible to re-create those quiet moments.

So as much as I hate this weather, as much as I want to scream and stomp my feet and beg for winter to retreat, I’m going to try to enjoy the gifts it brings us.

I’m going to turn on my fireplace, watch Tangled a few more times with my daughter and sneak in a few snuggles with my husband. Summer will return in its own sweet time. Watching the clock instead of enjoying my life won’t make it go any faster.

Or at least that’s what I’m telling myself today. Check back in mid-February. There may well be some foot stomping going on.

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Reason #451,671 Why I Love My Husband.

January 21, 2011
Palm trees in Indiana

Tweet “Damn, I hate winter,” I said, sighing. “Really? You’re already starting with the damn-I-hate-winter stuff? It’s only the beginning of December!” my husband replied, looking exasperated. “I know, I know.  But it’s just so…ugly. And cold. And long. Why does winter have to last three times longer than any other season?” “Well, technically, it […]

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