Mid-winter happenings

The weather continues to be cold, icy and gray.  It's just plain miserable outside and I'm loaded with existential angst.

What is the meaning of living is such grayness?  Daily life is not just routine; it's monotonous, no sparks of inspiration; no glimmers of sweet warm sun.  Outside my window people shuffle themselves down the street, grocery bags in hand, scarfs wrapped around heads and necks to ward off the wind. I play endless games of solitaire attempting to beat the high scores of ghostly unnamed competitors.  For what reason?   Shouldn't I read?  A year's worth of New Yorker magazines lay mostly unread expect for the cynical cartoons - at least they make me smile.  My Kindle app is loaded with a new book I am reluctant to read.  None of this makes sense.  I wait for spring.  My mind is numb.

The only hope I discover is to find pleasure is small things - a balancing game  that sparks a fun moment; a baby shower that reminds us that a new generation will turn us into great grandparents one day; babysitting a friend's pet for a week to remind us why we love but don't have dogs anymore; a physical challenge that puts me in the gym three times a week with women half my age; a roasted chicken Sunday dinner occasionally to put us in our comfort zone; an  alumni event eating hot dogs and slugging a bit of beer one evening to do service. 

What is excitement during this gray time of year?  My Fitbit got washed in the laundry this morning and survived. Our neighbor is helping us hook up an HDMI Video and Video player --Netflix, YouTube and the Internet now all on the big screen.  New ways to enhance our couch potatoes-ness.  Endless House of Cards chapters.  No wonder people are reading less and enjoying it more. 

With the sun and warmer weather angst will give way to anticipation as I can begin to imagine sailing again; outside runs through town; and open windows refreshing our rooms.  Until then, I wring my hands and catch up on all the House of Cards chapters I missed since I first saw it on a long plane ride last September.

We haven't done what yet? Not again?

It happened again.  Despite my best intentions, the holiday cards continue to rest on the top of the filing cabinet.  The envelopes are addressed, but somehow the cards remain stacked nicely to the side.  I imagined that in the middle of the night, each card would get a hand written personal message and then be gently placed in its appropriate envelop ready for us to lick and close the next morning.  Wouldn't that be a piece of Christmas magic! Where are the elves when you need them?  Did they go on strike?  But, no worry.  We'll get the job done.  The question is how soon? 

Why do we keep "doing" cards year after year?  Is it about the need to let people know we are still alive?  To brag about our adventures and mis-adventures?  To keep the "tradition" going in a time of electronic instant messaging and texting?  Maybe it is all of these reasons; but if the truth be known, I really enjoy opening a holiday card sent through the mail. I slow down for a moment to read the greeting, even the occasional note or holiday letter.  It can all surprise me; make me smile, even laugh or once in a while, when the news is sad, make me sigh.  However, not matter what the message, I am touched that someone remembered us and I want to do the same for them. 

This year our cards will be a big surprise especially if they don't get sent before the twelfth day of Christmas.