Monday, March 19, 2012

Vintage Spring

Friday was a most fantastical day.

And yes, I do understand that it's now Monday (almost Tuesday, but who's counting) and true, I do say every now and then that I prefer to blog in real-time. But trust me. I have my reasons.

So. Friday. The dew points and the barometric pressures and the meteorological powers that be gifted us with yet another plum perfect day. If I'm not careful, I scare myself into thinking that it's much later in the year than it actually is. Twice this week I've feared that I missed my sister-in-law's birthday (it's in May).

I worked up a sweat on one of our three walks and I freaked out because I need it to stay right here, you know? There looms the possibility that at this pace, we'll be seeing 140 degrees by June.

I know that any and all Joes, regular or otherwise, can appreciate the precious gift of a Summertime day smack-dab at the end of Winter, but little people help. They just do. 

They skip to school and twirl around in their "longish" skirt.

They have artistic license in determining what matches.

They say things like, "Bemember when it used to be summertime and we saw that horse do that one thing?"

They use "besides" as a universal transition word.

Mommy: Careful, don't bonk your head!
They: Besides, one time I had a lady bug in my hair!

They stroll around like any smart three and a half year old would do and they refuse to wear shorts. They opt for fleece pants. In fact, they appear to have developed a crippling fear of shorts over the past six months, but that's not something I care to delve into right at the moment.

Before long, we'll be moving on down the road and we're having more moments of wistfulness over leaving. But we've got the Summer, baby. 

Come to think of it, we've also got the Spring.

And even the tail-end of Winter.

(See what I mean? Confusing.)

 So with my three small charges, I plan to live it up and if Living It Up means we plunk quarters into the pop machines by the now-defunct Dollar General (R.I.P.) five out of seven days, well, so be it. Some happiness can be bought.

Subsequent to all of Friday's general awesomeness, I was bitten by a rogue, rebel-force bug and spent most of the next three days pining with an inexplicable fierceness for a light-blocking sleep mask. You think I'm joking? It was all I could think about. And really, it was all I could think about because my brain wasn't working at its optimal bandwidth. I got out of bed only for the necessities and considered stopping off for a siesta on the way to the necessity-room which is roughly four feet from my bedroom door.

Today, I am faced with the hope that I may yet live to see my 36th year, despite the facts that 1) I have the sinking suspicion that there is a small, rotting carcass stuck in my stomach and 2) everything I eat tastes like rotten mint chip ice cream.

Hey, you asked.

I haven't opened my laptop since Friday. I couldn't summon the energy to read a book until this afternoon, and even then, it was touch-and-go. So fill me in. What kind of excitement and tomfoolery did I miss? Got any good celeb gossip for me? Please tell me Tim and Faith are still together. And Kelli and Mark. Did you eat anything especially delicious over the weekend? See any good flicks?

Dear flu shot,

Fine. You win.
See ya on the flip-side.