winter - hooey!critic

t-minus 22 hours until hibernation

We are not preparing for some major snow storm. There is no huge thunderstorm on its way. The temperatures aren’t even sinking that low compared to others in the United States. But, I’ve declared a mental state of emergency and I’m going into a weekend hibernation.

I am so over Winter. Seriously.

Winter can kiss my clothing-layered ass.

I’m tired of the wind. I’m tired of the cold. I’m just done.

I’m so done with Winter that I’m seriously tempted to believe in the mystical season predicting powers of an animal that has a mismatched number of toes on its front and back feet.

That’s a groundhog in case you’re curious.

So, I’m preparing for a weekend boycott. By 8:00 PM Thursday night I’ll be done with classes for the week and I’ll have done the good parent thing and attended the PTA award ceremony where two of my babies are receiving awards. At that moment I plan to go into a full-on hibernation.

I’m going to wear yoga pants all weekend. I’m going to veg, eat yummy, hearty food, and nap if I so feel inclined. The family and I will watch movies, do puzzles, play video games, and not leave the house unless absolutely necessary. I’m not even planning to answer the phone or shower or wash my hair.

Apparently there’s some big sporting event on TV this weekend, but who really gives a crap about sports when you can Netflix the newest season of Weeds while picking your toes and snuggling with a soft puppy?!

In the midst of all this, though, I’ll be reading chapters, working on some sort of regression project, and researching my first COMPS question – but I’ll be doing it all from the comfort of my yoga pants with fresh coffee in hand. I’ll send my husband to the grocery store at some point so I can boycott consumerism and Winter simultaneously. I might even refuse to get the mail for no other reason than the mailman seems a bit too happy in the Winter and that’s just shady.

So bite me, Winter. I’m over you. And, apparently the only way I know to show how pissy I am with your existence is to neglect my hygiene and eat wings on the sofa for 3 days. And I’m okay with that.

Love, Neena

Longing for that Midwestern goodness

For anyone that does not already know the details of my sordid past, let me share some with you. I’m sure I’ve mentioned before that I’m not from Georgia. I was born and raised in Ohio amongst the corn, flat land, and football. I will be honest and say that I hated it when I lived there. I couldn’t wait to be the girl that escaped and discovered the world. I guess you could say I sorta did that in 1999 when I moved to Georgia.

I was going to school at BGSU and met a boy from Georgia. To make a long story short I transferred schools and moved here to continue being with him. Shortly after I moved here we broke up and I began dating one of his good friends. Now, before anyone goes and acts all shocked at my horrible sluttiness, I did end up marrying that good friend and we are now the overly tired parents of three weirdos. But, that is getting off track. When we got married we never really discussed where we would live. I think we both assumed that we would just stay down here. His family was here, his job was here, and I was perfectly content to live the life of a Southerner and spend my leisure time drinking sweet tea and learning to cook collard greens*. It wasn’t until my youngest, Charlotte, was born that I began to think about life in Ohio.

Hubby and I always agreed that it was important for our children to experience certain things that we each had growing up. We have done our best to include many of his ‘country life’ traditions and mingle them with my Midwestern ideals. So far it has been successful.

Now that the weather is turning cold I find myself longing to give my children the experience of a true Northern winter. I long to dress them in snow suits, shove them out the door to play for hours only to call them in moments before frostbite sets and their toes fall off. I ache to see the rosy chill on their cheeks and a poorly knitted cap on their heads. I want to yell at them the way my mother and grandmother used to about putting on a hat, not going outside with wet hair, and the ever popular ‘I don’t care how dorky that coat/hat/boots are – you don’t go unless you wear them.’ I want them to make snowballs and experience the sheer pain that comes with being pelted with one made out of that perfectly icy snow. I want them to see a white Christmas and I want them to learn the ways of driving in snow and ice. I want to pass on that aspect of my childhood.

This is not very far off from what I remember as a child. Hell, I spoke to my mother this morning and it was spitting snow! It’s October and, frankly, I’m a little jealous.

I’m not sure if we’ll ever actually move North. There is something about a Southern boy like Hubby that has a need and a genuine respect for the past and roots. But, as the weather begins to turn cold, I can’t help but long for a real fire, a snow storm, and dirty snowman in the front yard. Maybe someday my kids will have that experience as part of their childhood. Maybe they will only ever know the joys of Southern weather. I do hope that somewhere between the Midwest and the South there is a happy compromise.

*I don’t actually cook collard greens. Frankly, I think they are rather gross. But, I can make a mean can of spinach…that’s almost the same.