Winter Blues

It's no surprise to me that my mood just utterly tanks this time of year. And why wouldn't? Argh, this weather, this weather! Oppressively gray skies, all day, every day. Already the gorgeousness of last Saturday's ride is a fuzzy memory.

I need to move. I am convinced that people who live in sunnier climates live happier lives. This may or may not be true, but I've only lived here and I need to test the theory myself. My whole life, my grandparents lived in the Seattle area during the summer and then wintered in Yuma, Arizona. I am hoping to do something similar. Not right now, or for the foreseeable future, because for the next eleven years or so I can't even move out of the school district! Plus, God willing, my employer will keep me around for at least another 9.67 years until I'm eligible for full pension. (That's a fresh calculation for this entry, haha, not knowledge I keep stored on the top of my head - I'm not one of THOSE people. Plus, it's really only 8.67 years because my brief foray into the outside world, e.g. another similar agency, counts toward my retirement here.)

(Digression: I just got very excited! Wow, only 8.67 years? I won't be able to actually retire, I'm sure, but how fun to think I could!)

Because I really do love it here. Except for the six or eight months out of the year when I want to claw my eyes out from the suffocation of the gray, drizzly skies. But you know, July, August and September are TOTALLY AWESOME in Seattle!

You think I am speaking in the same old cliche about Seattle. I am not. Whenever it is not strikingly, knock you down because of all the gorgeousness, beautiful here...it is heinous. You are either outdoors reveling in the most amazing and gorgeous place on earth ever created, or you are contemplating eating razor blades to break up the monotony of the long, grey "winter."

Or maybe I'm just tired of it. Every year I seem to hate winter more. Some people - annoying people who should be slapped - love Seattle weather. A couple of my BFF coworkers are like this. Worse: I'm dating one of them. He was born and raised in Long Beach, CA and is presently vacationing in San Diego for a week and a half. If I hear one more dismissive "Oh, you know, California weather," comment about the weather...well, Mr. W may rue the day. Rue the day. (In truth, there is no safe thing for him to say about the weather. Enjoy it? I'm jealous. Dismiss it? I'm peeved at the lack of appreciation of it, haha. Someone's girlfriend is cray-cray, as my daughter says.) I have declared the weather an "unsafe subject" to discuss. Really - is there anything good to talk about every day when someone else is on vacation? How was your day? You got to go to the beach in the sun? Fun! My day? Oh, it rained and I went to work. This is the most boring conversation ever.

And by extension, the most boring blog entry ever, haha.

I have a 48+ mile bike ride planned for Saturday with one of my dear friends. The weather is iffy. But worse, it is my son's 12th birthday tomorrow and he will be with his dad in the morning. I will not be able to make him breakfast in bed, which is how he equates "birthday." (Sweetly, he also makes me breakfast in bed for my birthday.) I will be leaving home very early Saturday morning for the bike ride, which means he will again not get breakfast in bed. :( This is my boy whom because of,  I did not accept Mr. W's invitation to join him in San Diego for a long weekend this week because I could not be in California on his birthday. When asked, Blake says more than anything in the world, he just wants to take a vacation. :( Sorry, kiddo, there's three of you and one of me and I'll never be able to fly you all anywhere.

Anyway. Not sure about the ride. It will eat up a lot of the day Saturday, then he has a lacrosse game late afternoon. I'm planning a special trip sometime this weekend: drive him out to the house where he was born, then get lunch or dinner at the drive-in we stopped at on the way home from his birth. Ha! He was born at 9:38 a.m. and we were *home* by 12:30 p.m. after stopping for lunch. What a day!

Lakeside Birth Center

Local institution on the way home.

Well, this post started on a downer note but sure ended with some happy memories. :)

There's a reason he's still called "Boo." You never saw a kid play peek-a-boo so much, haha.