It is the middle of March. I saw my first robin yesterday on the way to church and that has always been my sign that spring is truly on my doorstep. I love robins and miss their lovely songs when Fall's dropping leaves and Winter's winds blow. My tiger lilies have pushed up through the ground too, only to be nibbled on by my chickens and my dog. My dog Chelsea, part black lab, part border collie, part beaver, part goat and part four legged, fur covered, garbage disposal. At least our chickens make our breakfast for us!
But today they've announced we are going to get some weather. Depending on whom you watch, we are in the 6-12 inch snowfall band. Yeah, just what I need. Snow. I planted my tomato seeds and pepper seeds yesterday. I am "thinking spring". I am planning our veggie garden, trying to decipher from my notes what worked last year, what didn't and how to improve what I did and introduce some new stuff. I looked at my "summer" clothes and am trying to figure out how they all could have shrunk and shrunk so terribly badly! I realize I'd put on some weight, but when your bathing suit starts weeping and you haven't taken off your pants yet, you know this isn't going to end well. I checked out some exercise videos (made specifically for people like me who sit at a desk all day) and have told myself sternly that I must do something before people mistake me for a circus fat lady. I am going on weight watchers and just dusted off my treadmill. I MUST do something and the good Lord knows left to my own devices, I'd just ban all mirrors, make caftans the wardrobe of choice and try to reinstitute the Romanesque period as the new normal.
But snow. This is truly killing me. This is why I gain weight in the winter. I hate all outdoor winter activities (except ice skating and snow tubing, but only if they have a line that pulls you back up to the top of the hill). I hate being cold. All I want to do is curl into the fetal position and hibernate. My hobbies are non athletic, I knit, spin, crochet, weave, quilt, sew, make my own designs for counted cross stitch and then stitch them and read. I am learning how to do "nal-binding", a form of knitting with a rather large sewing needle. But as you can see, none of these things require sweating, getting dirty, co-ordination, or the possibility of getting hurt. Well, I could stab myself with a needle or two and once I almost sewed through my finger, thus curing me of sewing while tired. Many years ago by sisters in law borrowed my husbands and my mountain bikes and went down a trail across the street from our old home in Brunswick. They fell, skinning their knees, bruising themselves up and (since it was 80 degrees outside) getting sweaty. My husband, ever the outdoors type, said to me:
"Doesn't that look like fun?"
"Yeah" I replied, "When I was 10 yrs old, I'd have enjoyed that immensely!" I then went back into the house and poured another glass of iced sweet tea and sat in my air conditioned slice of Heaven.
To say that I have no desire to sweat profusely, unless there is veggies involved, is an understatement. I can plant, weed and water all day long in the hot sun, but suggest anything other than a card or board game to me when the temp is over 70 and I'll suggest to you that you just go lie down and wait for that feeling to pass. Anything over 80 requires me to lie motionless in a pool. I come from a long, long, line of non-exercising, 90 and 100 year old family members. Dying young is not my worry. In fact, I'm more likely to die getting all sweaty than not. That's not to say I "shouldn't" exercise or take infinitely better care of my body than I do now. I should. The slogan "betcha can't eat just one!" really ISN'T a challenge and I shouldn't treat it as one. But I admit, I LOVE to cook and I LOVE to eat and I do both grandly.
I've just reached that stage where even I can't justify the gut, the butt or the thighs. The boobs I'd like to keep, but experience has already shown me that they will be the first thing to go. I wonder, if I stand on my head and allow all my fat rolls to shift to my chest, then tie a rope just under my boobs, would all that blubber stay there? I might not be able to walk upright, but it does make one wonder!
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