Winter Blues. . . .

I must apologize for my recent lack of, and lack-luster posting. I have no other excuse except that my life, as of late, is a direct reflection of these posts: boring and tedious. Please feel comfort in the fact that I am not ignoring this site (or you) and that if my life was at all eventful and I was, say, touring France by hot air balloon, changing the world by teaching pygmy children to knit or was involved in even a minimal battle with a chronic case of toe jam, you would know about it. But alas, I seem to be in some kind of parental parade down Groundhog’s Day Lane.


And Groundhog’s Day (the movie) it is. Each day my family presses our noses against rain-streaked windows looking for the slightest ray of sunshine, hoping that this will be the day we can don our new summer sandals. Sandals that have grown dusty in our entryway while waiting to tramp through bright green lawns steaming in the new spring sun. Sandals that are also waiting to Velcro themselves to my children’s very impolite feet which are climbing the walls with the bitter boredom of an extended winter.

In less rambunctious moments, Adam and Jamie, stand at the sliding glass window, Frisbee in hand in a perfect portrayal of the first page of Cat in the Hat. “Too wet to go out, And too cold to play ball. So we sat in the house. We did nothing at all.” I know, I know you’re asking the same question Adam asked me the first time we read this book, “Why don’t they just play with their toys?” Well there does come a time during winter, say around May 17th, that Play-doh and Hot wheels lose their designated appeal and become merely something to catapult at your sibling. I know how they feel. I have stacks of books I could be reading and movies from Blockbuster line our kitchen counter, but each time I see them I roll my eyes in disgust that they cannot somehow transform themselves into an actual, real-life adventure.

But even as I write this, the sun has begun to peek from the clouds and the forecast today does call for actual sun. It even teases a delightful Father’s Day weekend. Could it be possible that our annual visit to the local Tigard (Hot Air) Balloon Festival won’t have to include rain boots and heavy coats? Who knows, maybe that balloon ride over France might even work out.