This winter has been particularly brutal. I've had a chill for the last three weeks that I cannot shake off. I don't know if it's because last winter we were pretty much in house arrest with O being a premature newborn, so I had an extra break from a typical winter ... but man, I need to shake this chill!
The feet of snow are piled high, the wind is like needles that send an intense shot of poison in your veins, and I feel like the green grass of spring is a long way off. Thank goodness the groundhog didn't see his shadow. I guess that give me a little hope. I think I am going to have to make it a ritual that every winter we need to go somewhere sunny and warm in February. This cold intensity is seeping into my soul and cracking my veneer. I just want to snuggle in a blanket, read a good book (I'm taking a break from the list and reading the collective works of Anthony Bourdain).
Well ... I think it's time to open a bottle of wine, snuggle, turn on the fire and look forward to spring ... technically only like, what, six weeks away!
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