Planning Ahead For Springtime

So I think Spring has gone away again. Here in my area of the Midwest, this just means lots and lots of heavy rain and grey, gloomy days. Further north where my poor parents live, they’re getting predictions of snow. Not just a snow shower either but significant snowfall.

I actually feel bad for them. I think I’ve crossed that line from my love of winter to seeing the tempting light of spring at the end of the tunnel. Snow is lovely but it’s much lovelier in January and the months before.

Still, as I keep reminding my mother who tends to be a little like Eeyore at the mere mention of the S-N-O-W word, even with this latest onslaught of wintery precipitation it can’t stick around indefinitely. Unlike the snow falls we get in December and January which stick around and just make the world into a frozen blanket of whiteness, the snow that falls in February has an end date…that of the oncoming spring. While the cold temperatures can continue through April, they’ll be interspersed with warmer, balmy days that let the daffodils bloom, the tulips bud and the lilac to appear from nothing.

That doesn’t seem to help my mum though. I can almost hear her curling up in the fetal position whenever I talk to her and mention the snow. It’s just a fact of life, one I’ve come to accept over the years.

The thing I like about spring is the newness of everything. What lay dormant and grey in winter is suddenly budding with green. Even now with the reappearance of wintry weather, my garden shows the first sign of new life. My grass is greening up. The roses have the teeniest little buds of new leaves that have appeared on the brittle brown stalks of last year. The daffodil stalks have poked their heads out of the earth ready to respond to the sun the next time it appears.

For me, I like that spring gives me the chance to try new things. This year is going to be the time when I actually turn my outdated, senior-citizen decorated family room into a Tuscan villa room of relaxation. I was going to attempt this last autumn and went so far as to buy a paint sample in the colour I thought I wanted. Silly me, however, went to Lowes. You’d think I’d have learned my lesson there. I’d like to state, for the record, that despite the fact that Lowes states they can match any paint colour if they have a sample, they actually can’t.

I took in a pretty orange paint chip that I’d actually found at Home Depot. Since Home Depot isn’t as close to my house, I figured I’d see how Lowe’s did at matching it, just for a sample. Well, they did horrible. The colour was more of a peach than an orange colour. I dabbled quite a large spot on the wall. I subsequently hated it. I’ve decided not to go with orange but more of a yellow colour. I’ll be going to Home Depot for my paint.

I just have to wait a little longer. My family room isn’t heated. I have one of those portable oil heaters in there which helps but it’s not warm enough to stay out there for any length of time.

So, I’ll have to wait until it’s spring and it gets a little warmer.

I also want to embrace newness in the garden. This year, I plan to try to banish Mr. Bunny from my vegetable patch and prevent him and his squirrel buddies from devouring the seedlings of my vegetables before they become more than a seedling. I’m not quite sure how to do this but I’ll figure it out.

I have some landscaping I’d like to do and some planting.

I also want to steam clean my carpets which bear the reminders of the winter in the form of puppy prints and other debris from wet and frozen days.

I’d also like to slowly start to redo my bathroom but I recognize that this might be beyond my skill level. I’m also a little afraid because this is my only full bathroom with a shower and if I start to redo it, I won’t have a shower for a while. I’m fond of taking showers, The idea of standing outside with a hose does not appeal.

I’d also like to do the inevitable spring cleaning that comes when the sun begins to shine and the dust and cobwebs that have been slightly easy to ignore as they’ve arrived slowly over the winter suddenly become more prominent.

So, you see, I have lots of things I want to do this spring. It’s just too soon and I need to be more patient. Spring will come when its ready and it’s not quite time yet. I should let winter finish having her say and embrace the excuse of being able to stay inside and semi-hibernate. That’s one of my favourite parts of winter.

It’s just that when you start seeing the first fresh asparagus in the stores, the first blooming tulips and other signs of spring, you can’t help but want to jump the gun a little. It’s inevitable.

But, for now, I’ll just sit back, enjoy the heavy thump of the rain and let my mind start planning. It may not be time to actually do anything yet but it never hurts to plan.

Maybe it’s not so bad that winter is back for another spell. Given my list of projects, planning might take a while.

Ah well, I have to start somewhere.

Happy Friday and have a great weekend!

Delivery Envy

There’s something about a flower delivery in the office that definitely seems to have more effect on women than men.

With men, I dare say that they see flowers and think. “Oh, flowers.” Maybe they think something like, “I hope they don’t make me sneeze,” or “What schmuck sent flowers?” but, mostly, they just identify the item and carry on with their daily life.

With women, I think it’s different. The flowers arrive and, when seen, they alight just a tiny flicker of hope that, hey, maybe they’re for you. Even though there’s a louder voice that says “Who on earth is there to send you flowers?”, it doesn’t matter. When the delivery arrives and the recipient is not identified, the hope happens.

Then, when the recipient is identified, the process continues with disappointment and a slight bit of envy. Certainly, it’s nice that the woman in your office got flowers but you didn’t and it’s sad and you wish they were your flowers.

Even when it’s not flowers but cookies or chocolate covered strawberries and chocolates and the recipient says she’ll share, there’s still a little bit of “Delivery Envy” going on. You may eat the fruit/chocolate/cookies but you won’t eat much because they’re not your sweet goodness but those of the loved recipient who received the delivery.

I know it’s not just me, either. This morning, one of my coworkers got a lovely big box of fresh flowers. When they arrived, my fellow single office coworker and I both had the same brief look of hope and then disappointment when we realized they weren’t for us. When we met in the break room, we both consoled each other to the fact that neither of us gets flowers and though we were happy for our coworker, we had Delivery Envy. At this point, my boss overheard us and sweetly offered to send us flowers but, well, it just wouldn’t be the same. When you get flowers, it makes you feel special. You don’t have to tell people who they’re from. Granted, it’s extra nice when they’re from a beau or male friend but no one HAS to know they’re from your mother or your friend unless you tell them. Having that big vase of flowers on your desk is like a badge of honour. Someone loves you enough to send you flora.

So, even though it was really nice of my boss to offer to send us flowers, we’d know they were from our boss and having them on our desk wouldn’t be the same.

Does that make sense? When I read it, it doesn’t sound like it does but I know what I mean.

In my last job, one of my coworkers got flowers almost every third week. If it wasn’t flowers, it was deluxe chocolate covered strawberries or chocolates. She had a nice husband who liked to send her things to let her know she was loved.

It was nice to see it but it was also interesting to see that I wasn’t the only one with Delivery Envy. After the second or third delivery within a couple of months, the comments from other women in the office stopped being, “Aw, you got flowers/chocolates/strawberries,” and started being more like, “you got flowers AGAIN! What did you DO?”

This is how I realized that Delivery Envy affects us all. We want to be happy for our coworkers/friends but, gosh darn it, we want flowers too!

In my case, my last flower delivery was on my birthday last year from a good friend. This was nice. They were delivered at home and they made me happy to see them on my coffee table.

The last flower delivery before that was from a male friend when I moved into a new apartment. This was three years ago.

It may seem pathetic that I remember all my flower deliveries but, well, I don’t get many. I’m never going to be the type of Monkeypants that gets bouquets from mystery men after exotic nights. This is because, well, I don’t have exotic nights and I don’t have any mystery men.

The reality of it is that most people don’t get flowers at work on a regular basis. This, I think, is why Delivery Envy occurs. It’s a pattern of “ooh! (hope), “Oh!” (disappointment) and “Ah, pretty” (Envy)”.

Example: Delivery person arrives with flowers. “Oooh!” say the females who seem him/her arrive. Then he/she speaks. “Delivery for X”. “Oh,” say the females in the office who aren’t X. Then X receives the flowers. “Ah, pretty,” say the females in the office which, in girlspeak, really means, “They are pretty but I really wish they were my flowers. I never get flowers. Why are YOU so special that you get flowers?”

It’s much easier when you work in an office where the men outnumber the women especially when there’s two single women out of three of us in the office. Since Valentine’s Day is coming up, it means there are far less people to solicit the “ooh, oh, ah” pattern of Delivery Envy.

It also makes it a little easier to be determined that, one day, some day maybe, just maybe, you’ll be the one with the bouquet of love on your desk. Hey, it can happen…I believe it can. I believe it can!

Happy Friday!

The Nostalgic Wistfulness of Wanting a Recess....

It's only a few days shy of officially being Spring but, for all intents and purposes, at the moment, here in our corner of the Midwest, it already is Spring. Even though it's supposed to snow a little early next week, no amount of snow, no matter how much I love it, can stop the progress that is the transition from Winter to Spring. The crocuses are blooming, the daffodils are nearly there. It's warm outside... breezy and the smell of warmer days yet to come scents the air.

I'm feeling poetic, obviously. This morning, at work, our office was freezing. Outside, it was chilly, a nip of frost to the early morning air. Even though we're supposed to accept Daylight Savings Time, I don't accept it. To my body and my circadian rhythms, it's still the same time as it was a week ago. Just because the government stipulates we move our clocks forward, doesn't mean my natural sleep cycle will concur. Thus, when I get to work at 7:30 a.m., my body AND my brain knows it's only really 6:30 a.m. It also doesn't help that our phones, on a centralized network, somehow revert back every night so that they tell us the real time, not the phony "Daylight Savings Time." So when I get in the office at "7:30" a.m., my clock even tells me it's 6:30 a.m.

It's no wonder it's chilly in the morning. It's practically night when I have to get up at the moment.

Still, by afternoon, the air warmed up and our office did too. One of my coworkers opened up the door to the fire escape and let the balmy, fresh, Spring-scented air flow in. It made me happy, particularly as I'm in the best position in our area to feel the air as it blows in; directly in its entryway.

As the afternoon wore on and the fresh air revived us, the quiet began to be punctuated by the sounds of screaming voices. They were happy screaming voices, those of children who are on recess.

There's a daycare next door to our office park. I think it's a kindergarten. Every afternoon when the weather permits, the kids go outside to play.

In our office, it spurned conversations about the nostalgic, long-forgotten joy of recess. There were jokes about milk and cookies, naps and being able to run around in the sunshine. Yet beyond the jokes, there was always a wistful hint of days gone by.

I think we all wish that recess would continue beyond the school days. In England, we called it 'playtime' rather than recess. For me, as a shy, insecure child, recess was either fun- if I had a friend to spend it with- or it was a dark, dismal place in which I had to find a way to spend 15-20 minutes alone without attracting the attention of the bullies.

It wasn't that I didn't have friends. It was just that sometimes, it was far more appealing to take a book and go sit on the wall and read, avoiding the games of football (or, to my American readers, soccer), hopscotch and 'it'. I never minded playing 'it'. I think it's called 'Tag' over here. Basically, you run around chasing the other kids who are playing and if you touched them, they were' it' and you then had to run away to avoid being double 'it-d'.

When we played 'it', I was part of a team. Even back then, the politics of the playground were a natural deterrant in being able to make friends. There was always some pariah, someone who'd done something as awful as telling a teacher on a troublemaker or someone who had an 'accident' in the cloakroom.

Still, there were games that involved everyone, pariah or not. Games like 'Red Rover' where it was important to have as many players as possible. I always loved 'Red Rover'. Ok, so it was slightly violent and not terribly tame and, well, yes, kids did break bones playing it but it was a full-on, team-based, playground competition. Everyone played, not everyone won.

When I heard the sounds of the kids running around today, punctuating the spring air, I had flashbacks to games of Red Rover. And, naturally, I had to picture playing the same game with my current coworkers. It was an amusing, if slightly barbaric, picture.

I like the idea of having a recess, of being able to get away from our desks to run around the car park, arms flapping like wings and having a good scream of "AAAAAHOOOOOOOOOGAHHHHHHHH!" I think it would be fantastic stress relief.

I also admit, even before we started hearing the sounds of recess, I've often pictured myself running around the building, arms outstretched like wings screaming "AAOOOGAHHH!". Personally, I think if we got to do that, there'd be far less tension and far less need for optimistic pictures in the bathrooms.

Of course, I don't do it. While the idea appeals, the reality does rear its ugly head; My coworkers would probably think I was nuts. They already suspect it, having it confirmed might be a tad too much.

Nevertheless, when I hear the sounds of children running wild, enjoying the freedom of a life without adult responsibilities, part of me longs to join them. I do wish we had recesses where it was perfectly ok to run around like a loon to expend our energies. We do get work breaks but they're not quite the same. On those, we get to drink coffee, leave our desks to make a phone call even, gasp, attempt to make a run to the Target across the road in 15 minutes or less.

Yet we never take time to treasure the fact that a break is, in fact, a break from life. Perhaps we should all run around pretending we have wings and screaming or squealing or just admitting that we're enjoying ourselves.

That's the thing with kids, you see. They never have to stop and say, 'wait, does this count as my break? Oh dear, what if I'm a minute late? Will anyone see? Oh, crap, there's no coffee....now I have to make coffee and that will take a while. If I wait for the coffee to brew, is that my break? Or is it my break when so-and-so comes to ask me a work question and we end up chatting about her kids/my puppies?"

You get the idea. Perhaps if we called it recess and we all got to go outside and run around; I bet things would be different then.

Of course, we might also make a run for it, escaping into our cars and running off into the freedom of a non-working delusion. That's the thing with being a kid. They can't drive. To them, a recess is the span of the playground into which they're released. For us, the whole world is our playground or, more realistically, a vast expanse of places to run errands and 'get things done.'

Even if we had recess, we'd probably find ways to avoid it.

Still, I like the idea of it, don't you?

Happy Friday!

Visions of Mounted Squirrel Heads...

You'll be happy to know I won't be blogging about pig heads today. Honestly, there are some blogs that I really can't explain. It's just what comes out when I type. I'm sure if I had a professional analyse my thoughts, I'd either be thrown in the loony bin or be determined criminally insane. Really, though, I'd like to think everyone has a peculiar way of thinking; I just happen to have a blog.

While I might not blog about pigs heads, I wouldn't mind blogging about squirrel heads. You see, I'm declaring war on Nutley v. 2.0. While I wasn't happy about him eating my tomatoes, I'd resolved myself to the fact that there wasn't much I could do about it in the immediate future except shoo him away if I saw him.

Last night, however, I went out to water my plants. I had recently planted a very small but cute rose in my garden that has been doing well. It has one tiny rose blooming on it and the second, and only other bud, was just opening.

Well, that is to say it was opening. Last night, I discovered that Nutley 2.0 had not only picked my rose but he'd strewn the petals over my garden. I can only blame him as I saw him boldly and brassily sitting in the exactly spot where I found the evidence just the night before as day became twilight and Nutley loomed large in the shadows of the setting sun. I'd like to think there was some more serene and pretty purpose in his scattering of rose petals but since they were chewed and regurgitated alongside the dregs of the rosebud, I don't think it's likely he was the groom in a squirrel wedding or anything like that.

I liked that rose. I was pleased because I'd rescued it from my mother's yard where it hadn't taken too well to the shade and soil where we'd originally planted it. Since I replanted it, it thrived.

I'm hoping it continues to thrive but short of a BB gun, I'm not sure how to solve the squirrel problem. A BB Gun would help and, I confess, I'm tempted. Perhaps a BB could even go astray as the neighbours' yappy dog came to torment me.

No, I'm not that mean. Besides, my mother was almost shot with a 'stray' 'BB' gun last year while she was minding her own business and weeding her garden. She was kneeling down and felt something zip by her ear. It hit the barn behind her. It scared her rather badly, as you can imagine. Shaken and scared, she told my dad who wisely called the police because it seemed that the neighbours were shooting in their yard across the street and a bullet had managed to find it's way across the road. Considering there's a good distance between my parents' house and the neighbours, it seemed a little unlikely that a little BB would have such a trajectory. The sherriff's department came and questioned the neighbours who said they had accidentally been shooting at squirrels and misfired. I don't buy that for a second, especially considering they're not the friendliest of people. The woman who lives there proceeds to wake me up whenever I'm staying overnight by screaming like a banshee at her dog or kid; I can't quite tell which one- the screaming generally sounds the same whether she's telling the dog to shut up or the kid to stop acting like a brat.

Still, whether it was a BB or a stronger bullet, I think my mother is a little more cautious. She didn't take my suggestion to wear a bulletproof vest and helmet seriously. However, I told her to stay low if she hears gunshots from across the way. I can just see her snaking on the ground, army style, to get from her flower garden to the house. Given that her miniature Yorkie is usually with her in the garden, he'd probably hamper her progress in staying low by licking her face and stifling her. So, all in all, it wouldn't be very successful or subtle. It might prevent her from getting shot by stray pellets, however.

Anyway, because of this, I'd feel bad for getting a BB gun and aiming at the squirrel. I have a lot of neighbours around. I might accidentally shoot one. Given my recent DMV Issues, I really don't need a assault with a non-deadly weapon on my record. Though, I'm happy to report, as of this morning, I'm legal to drive in the state of Indiana. Now, given that I live in Ohio, I better get things cleared up there. I see a trip to the portal to Hell in my near future. Is it bad that I'm actually happy about this?

Back to Nutley 2.0. I'm not sure what to do to him. He was shouting at me last night as I watered my yard. If you've never heard a squirrel shouting, it's a stream of hissing chattering. I recognize the sound because Nutley at USC used to talk to me sometimes. It sounds angry. I think he was annoyed that I was watering his buffet. Personally, I'd like to take Mr. Nutley 2.0 and show him who's boss but since I can neither scamper up a tree at the speed of light nor get low enough to the ground to nibble at a tomato from below, I think he has the edge. Also, he's quite big for a squirrel and can jump on me from above. Yes, I'm being held at bay by a 10 inch tall rodent. He's big for his size though. Really!

I'll have to find a way to repel him next year; I'm sure I can find solutions but given that fall is coming and Nutley 2.0 will go into hibernation, I can deal with him for now. Though I do wish he'd stop hiding his nuts under my newly transplanted plants.

And yes, I'm aware, that could be a euphemism. It is, however, meant to be read literally. I'm talking about hickory nuts and acorns. Get your mind out of the gutter.

If anyone has a squirrel deterrent, I'd gladly hear about it. I wish to defeat Nutley 2.0. I just don't know how. I will not concede defeat, however. I WILL NOT! Nutley 2.0 WILL be conquered, oh yes, he will.

On a far more serious note, I would be amiss if I didn't mention the death of Patrick Swayze. Being the daughter of a man who thinks Dirty Dancing is the best move ever and also adores Black Dog and Roadhouse, it doesn't seem right to not admit that it's a sad day. As a teen, there were many late night sleepovers with friends in which we'd stay up watching swaying to Dirty Dancing's, "I've had the Time of my Life," and miming along to the Mickey and Sylvia song. Yet when I think of "No one puts baby in the corner!" it's my dad that comes to mind. The amount of times he's sat there, remote poised, rewinding to that final dance number, a happy smile on his face, is ridiculous. He's a strange man, my father. But he does love his Dirty Dancing. Rest in peace, Mr. Swayze.

Who's going to rescue Baby from the corner now? :(

Happy Tuesday.

The Roadtrip of Writing...

Rather than dwell on my lack of advancement in the Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award, I've decided to ignore it completely for now. I won't lie and say the disappointment has already vanished because that would be a lie. I won't say that every now and again, I don't have the urge to check the postings on the site to make sure I wasn't one of the winners. I'm not going to make up excuses or be bitter. I venture to guess that a large percentage of the semi-finalists have also had their share of rejections and disappointment and they are finally getting a chance to be read.

So, I'm deciding to embrace that which I do have in my life rather than what I don't have. For example, today is looking to be a beautiful day. The sun is finally shining, the trees along the roads that line my route to work have exploded into white cotton-ball-like blossoms with a few hardy pink magnolias thrown in. The tulips have budded, ready to show their blooms and the daffodils and forsythia each throw their indulgent yellow tones out into a world that has seemingly turned back to green overnight.

I woke up to the sound of Green Day on my alarm clock. For anyone who knows me, Green Day is my absolute favourite band in the entire world. I haven't gushed about how excited I am that less than a month from now, on May 15th, their new album "21st Century Breakdown" will be released. Consider me gushing now. Today, their first single from the album, "Know your Enemy", is going to be released on iTunes. As of half an hour ago, it wasn't there yet. I know because I already tried to download it. I'll be patient and get it tonight. I'm excited. Their last album, "American Idiot," is my all-time favourite rock album. It inspired me to write an entire novel. Even if their follow-up only has a couple of good songs (which I doubt), I wait with excited anticipation. Any day, like today, that starts with Green Day has to be good. It's a law. In my head.

I'm also grateful for Facebook. Through this site, I have had the chance to reconnect to friends that I haven't talked to in years but wondered where life has taken them. I'm in touch with some of my family in the UK. Through simple things as "Status Updates" and "Five Favourite Things", I can learn about them, see what they're up to. It's a powerful thing. Yesterday, when I was so deflated about the Amazon contest, my friends rallied in support, posting lovely positive praise about my writing and letting me know that this isn't the end, but the beginning. Sometimes you just need to hear things like that. Yesterday, I did.

My family is the same. They seem to believe in me, no matter how often I feel like I'm losing my way. My mother, especially. It's nice to feel appreciated. I know, as a writer, you're not supposed to use your mother as your 'Ideal Reader' (to poach a term from Stephen King). However, my mother is a reader. She's an extremely discriminating one. She is the one I can count on to tell me if a book I'm thinking about reading is worth the time. This is why occasionally I'll give her a stack of my unread books and tell her to let me know if they're worth my time. I'm lazy. She doesn't mind. It works out well. This is why I always let her read my stories and novels first. She is positive but she will tell me what's wrong with my story, whether the ending is too treacly, whether she doesn't like a character. It's a useful thing and it keeps me going.

I also found out I can now buy a house. That's a terrifying thing. I've been approved for a mortgage. Technically, the shopping can begin. I've never house-shopped before. I don't really know what to look for. I'm a bit afraid I'll find a place with a darling fireplace, a lovely garden and I'll forget that working plumbing, unexposed wires and solid walls are usually a must for a habitable environment these days. Still, it's an exciting prospect. It also means I'm really turning into a grown-up. That's a terrifying thought but it had to happen sometime.

So, though I'm still feeling the lapping of disappointment whenever I sit back and forget to block it out, it's not the end of the world. It's not the end of my writing. My characters are still in my head, waiting for their stories to be told. I still feel the tug of excitement as I realize my current novel is going in a completely different direction to what I originally planned. Though I did ask Gaz, my main character, if he'd have any objection to being turned into a vampire and/or being written for young adults. That's the target market these days, it seems, for fantasy.

Gaz said no. He wasn't very nice about it. Which, actually, given the fact that he's not particularly nice anyway, wasn't a surprise. I think I'll stick to keeping him who he is. Characters are far more interesting when you let them tell you who they are, when you don't try to make them into a cookie-cutter hero or a typical villain. I'll let him tell me his story though I might have to censor him a bit. He has a foul mouth that one. Throw in an East London accent and you have a very interesting man although he's made me promise I won't picture the Geico Gekko when he's talking. It's hard not to though. I love that lizard.

So, on this lovely spring morning, I'm accentuating the positive and ignoring the negative. It's getting easier already. Maybe it's the sunshine, maybe it's the fact that Green Day are back with fresh material, maybe it's the fact that I've realized, once again, having good family and friends in my life can make up for a lot of things I don't have. Whatever it is, I'm looking forward, not back. Like a smart friend said yesterday, roadtrips are often more fun than the actual destination. My writing is my journey, success is the destination. If I get there too quickly, I won't have time to wind down the windows, turn up the music and eat too much junk food. Road trips are the best things, especially when you have good company. I'm lucky in that regard; my friends and my family are always there, supporting me, entertaining me and reminding me to look out the windows and enjoy the view. Even when it's raining, it's still a good ride.

Happy Thursday.

Happy Valentine's Day....

It's been another long week. Yet, being Friday, it's almost over and the weekend, once more, lays before us, untouched in its promise of two days of freedom.

It's also Valentine's Day tomorrow. This means that day will be filled with men scurrying to buy flowers, cards, chocolates and jewelry and the evening will be filled with dates, romantic evenings in which couples celebrate their relationship.

I'd like to say I'm one of those people who sneers at the day and wonders what the point of having one day to declare your love when, technically, you should be doing it year round. And, in a way, I am one of those people. Yet, as always seems to be the case, I don't see it in black and white and so I do understand why February the 14th is special for people.

I have to confess, I think I've had maybe two Valentine's Day's in my life where I've been in a relationship. They were during college and both years, it was the same relationship. Those were good days, days in which I felt spoiled and lucky and appreciated having a boyfriend. Since then, my timing has sucked. I've never actually been in a relationship on Valentine's Day. Seriously. I've either just stopped seeing someone or...there never was a someone.

You'd think this would make me angry and bitter. It used to. In high school, where Valentine's Day seems a much bigger event than in reality, there were always the girls with bouquets. Our school used to sell carnations for a dollar, red for love, pink for 'like' and white for friendship. I think I got a pink one once which was nice. Otherwise, I got white ones from friends. There were always the girls who had an actual bunch of red carnations at the end of the day. I was never one of them. Truth be told, it was never about the flowers. I always wanted the more...Victorian...valentine. I wanted that unsigned card in my locker that gave my life an air of mystery. I wanted to find out I had a secret admirer.

I never did get my card. The pink flower was the closest I came. That was exciting at the time because it was almost the same thing. I had a suspicion I knew who sent it and it turned out to be right. It was someone I'd been in drama with and I ended up dating him for a while. As awful as it sounds, I never really liked him. I did like the fact that he had his own car and he introduced me to such glamourous places as The Olive Garden and Chi Chi's Mexican restaurant. Hey, in high school, those places are glamourous.

Yet to this day, I've never had my mysterious unsigned Valentine's card from an admirer. I've had cards from my dog and my parents yet never from an admirer.

However, these days, I don't look on Valentine's day as a disappointment, a constant reminder that, yet again, I'm single on this day. Instead, I look at the other 'loves' I have in my life. I have great friends and a good family. Normally, I try to be on the ball and send friendship Valentine's cards. If I'd have thought about it, I would have sent some to my nephew's and nieces. Yet, this year, the day slipped up on me and I haven't had a chance to send them. That makes me feel bad but it doesn't mean that tomorrow, I won't be thinking of them all and appreciating them.

I also intend to make the day special for me, to remind myself of all the reasons that I do enjoy being single. I love to go to the movies alone because it's relaxing. I will make something nice for dinner and I will take a nice bath, probably with candles. Just because I don't have anyone to send me flowers, it doesn't mean I should look on a day that is all about love with disdain. I had intended to drive to my parent's this weekend and spend the day with my family but due to, um, a slight problem with expired license plates, I'm a bit afraid of being pulled over. So I'll stay local and try to dodge the police. I've already had one incident with them since I've moved, I don't need another. Next week, I should be able to get new plates because FINALLY the lienholder on my car sent the title to the state of Ohio. I've only been trying to get it for over a month.

But, I digress. Again. Thus, I shall be spending my Valentine's Day alone. I'm actually ok with that. If I can't be with someone I love, being alone is good because Valentine's Day is a good reminder to try to love oneself too even if that self is feeling a little fragile due to potentially losing her job, constantly being rejected by men, agents and publishers and feeling like she's a bit crap at the job she DOES have. Yes, I'm a pathetic creature but for once, I'm not going to mope about it. I'm going to revel in the flowers and the hearts and all of the other Hallmark symbols of Valentines' Day. And to all the other singletons reading this blog, I salute you and remind you that love doesn't have to be romantic, it can just be....love.

Happy Valentine's Day.

The Anticlimatic Nature of the New Year

This time of year is strange. Two weeks ago, I was rejoicing that it was almost Christmas. We were still buying decorations and gifts at full-price, wrapping them, running around doing last minute shopping, baking....all the warm traditions that go along with Christmas week.

Now, those same decorations that made us feel warm and cosy now seem tired and almost redundant. The stores are selling their Christmas merchandise at 50-75% off. It's a great deal and next year, the bargains will seem purposeful and smart. It is hard, however, to get motivated to go browse the Christmas clearance section. The further behind us Christmas gets, the harder it is to browse. It doesn't help that everything is thrown into one aisle that is crammed with people, fighting to buy that packet of icicles for next years tree that is now only 25 cents.

My tree is still up though I'll take it down tomorrow. As I've mentioned, as is often a tradition in the UK, my family keeps their tree up for the twelve days following Christmas- through Epiphany on January sixth.

What is it about Christmas that seems so exciting until it's passed and then it just seems tired? It's not as though there's much waiting after New Years. January, February and March are the longest months of the year. Here in the Midwest, they're dreary months, full of unpredictable weather, darkness, dampness and grey. Even for people like me who loves snow, they're hard months to get through. Spring is not certain until April when it starts to approach timidly at first and then as May approaches, it's in full swing, even though there is still a chance of a rare snowfall.

It's the next few months that are the hard ones. I always thought it odd that New Years was at the start of the these months. I know it's all based on a calendar but it would be so much more interesting if the New Year began in the spring, the renewal of the earth visible in the little green shoots that quickly become daffodils, tulips, hyanciths and daisies. Instead, we ring in the new year and then....nothing. Months of winter lie ahead, those green shoots just hopes, hibernating in the earth until the snows begin to melt and the earth is newly green again.

I suppose in other parts of the world, New Year isn't in Winter. I should probably take that into account. However, I don't live in the other hemisphere and honestly, couldn't image celebrating Christmas in the middle of summer. That would be strange. It was strange enough living on the west coast and having the days building up to Christmas be 70 degrees and sunny.

Don't get me wrong. I still love Winter. I'm one of the weirdos who doesn't mind a spot of bad weather provided my love ones are safe and not driving the treacherous roads. I like nothing better than a snow day, burrowing down with a mug of hot chocolate, a jigsaw slowly in progress on the table, a stack of books taunting me, trying to get me to choose which one to get lost in as I enjoy the fact that I'm a prisoner of the weather.

Yet I still think that it's odd that we ring in the New Year and then....that's it. We all go back to work. We make and try to keep resolutions and that's pretty much it. It feels as though we should have another big holiday in February, something to get us through that month that may be the shortest on the calendar but can sometimes be the darkest, hardest to get through month of the year.

Then again, maybe Spring wouldn't be so welcomed if we didn't have the bleak period of nothingness before it arrived.

Either way, it's something to think about. I'll take down my tree tomorrow and try to find something to replace the emptyness that the room now presents. Maybe I should put my new exercise bike there. I made a resolution to get in better shape. I figured if I go with an exercise bike, i can watch TV while using it. I can be an energetic couch potato instead of a hippo-like one instead.

Whatever your resolutions may be, if you made any at all, I hope 2009 is a good year for you all, whatever it may bring.

Happy Monday.