Someone noted recently that December is the month when, despite the rush, the holiday craziness, the pressure at work and home, people strive to extend a hand, to put on a smile, to say a good word to the passerby. I certainly saw that in the Post Office this morning as I stood in a long line to return an item that I'd purchased unnecessarily (and thus felt compelled to return). Good will abounded. The clerks were chatty, the waiting public was patient. Wishes for a good day flew thick and heavy as people sent their parcels and letters, likely with more good wishes to everyone high and low.
And then, sometime after the first week of January, it stops. Midwinter grumpiness sets in. Sour, dull impatience. Maybe you're sick of all that positivity and superficial greeting nonsense. Maybe you actually did not have a good holiday season and New Years Day was cold, dark and lonely. Maybe you've embarked on a course of Dry January and it's making you downright sulky and mean. I mean, I have to agree: December good cheer will so often turns into January rage.
But must it? Can't we just get rid of the dried out Christmas trees shedding their needles over everything, put away the cookies recipes, break down all the piles of Amazon boxes, but keep the good will going for at least another... week or two?
I had a visit with my doc this morning to discuss travel and sleep (for me, the two are often incompatible) and we soon strayed to the topic of the mood of the moment. She tells me her mood's significantly improved since she has turned off most of her news feeds, which she thinks may work for a while, but carries with it its own risks -- of being uninformed, for example. She plans on turning them back on after the New Year. No! -- wait another month! Let February take the brunt of our disaffection with the world. It's a short month, after all.
The thing is, when you are, say, 71, you feel quite differently about the period right after the sugar rush of December. January is a period of extreme calm. Of loads of hours at home. maybe under a quilt, on the couch. Of warm tea and biscuits (how about triple ginger from Trader Joe's or someone recently put in a plug for McVities Digestives from England. A time of candles -- unless you're with someone like Ed who gets apoplexy at the sight of a burning wick. January is a good month. I look forward to it.
But in the meantime, the thrilling rush of December is on!
And the weather -- did I tell you how weird it is this year? Cold, cold, cold, then a warm weekend, lasting into a beautiful Monday. High today of 52F (11C)! Wait, that's not the end of the story. By Wednesday, the high will be 11 again, but 11 Fahrenheit, which translates to another 11 -- a minus 11 Celsius. That will be our high. What the hell???
Okay, clearly the message is to seize the day. And we do that.
First, the animals. Inside and out.
Breakfast, inside.
Then the already discussed doc's visit and trip to post office and finally -- a double whammy: bike and hike: to the park!
I have that extra time today because there are no kids here in the afternoon (they have their own appointments and such). But I do need to head over to the ballet studio in the evening to fix Snowdrop's hair for her end of semester demo dance and of course to watch the demo dance class.
I used to watch all her classes, just because seeing kids study dance is kind of fun. Their movements tell you a lot about what's going on in their heads. Easily distracted? Determined? Full of spunk? Mischief? Delight?
But, there are only so many hours in the day and as her lessons moved further into the evening hours, I gave up. Still, today I watch.
And then I come back home to the calm and quiet of our lovely piece of heaven: the couch in our living room. With some reheated stuff from last night's dinner and a show on our medium sized screen. Total contentment. And love...
