I haven't posted in awhile, and don't have much to say today, either, but the keyboard calls me just the same. I know how disappointed I am when I click on one of my regular blogs, only to find the same old last week's post. So going on the theory that something is better than nothing, here I am.
This time of year sucks-the seemingly endless winter is kicking my ass, work is scarce, and mostly I've just been hunkered down in my big comfy chair
reading lots of chick books and cozy mysteries. Last week I haunted the newsstands for the new issue of Vanity Fair, which I finally found today. My desk is piled high with random receipts, lists, empty jewel boxes, unopened mail and other ephemera, but I just can't muster the whatever-it-takes to plow through it.
Lent is just around the corner, which is a harbinger of spring, albeit a rather grim one. I haven't been to church since Christmas Eve; no real reason, just haven't felt like going. Sweetie has had to work so much this winter (yay, time-and-a-half! boo, no family time!) that Sundays are the only time the three of us are together as a family, all awake and able to hang out. Since I don't have a 40-mule team with which to drag him to church, Liam and I have stayed home and we've enjoyed it, but it also leaves me with a vague feeling of unease and dissatisfaction when I don't go.
Still, I try to find a bit of hope in the infinitesimal lengthening of days, the hint of warm breeze that drifted in through the kitchen window last week, the gardening implements and seeds (and spring dresses and sandbuckets) in the stores. Soon the daffodils will poke their silly yellow heads out of the cold ground, the forsythia will burst into glorious bloom and I will learn whether or not the moles ate the bulbs Mama planted. Meanwhile, I just try to hold on.
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