What is up with this month? It can never seem to make up its mind. How many days should I have? it wonders. And every four years it decides to toss in one more. Should I dump two or three feet of snow–yeah, why not. And why not follow that with temperatures in the 60s, just to tease everybody before I throw out some ice, more snow and drop that temp to freeze butts off.
February’s a sociopath.
I deal with it by staying home, out of its chuckling way. And if I have to go out, I simply count down the time until I’ll be back inside. And in that way, I use February’s mad ego to get lots of stuff done.
I write, I cook, I workout, I finish my full-house purge, I read, I watch TV. While I might think wistfully of spring, of digging in the dirt, throwing open the windows, I remind myself I don’t have to go out there to get things done. I’m thinking that right now as the chilly rain’s pounding outside in the dull, gray February gloom.
When I finish this blog, I’ll go out to my little gym and for about 90 minutes, I’ll be too focused on me–the sweat, the doing–to care about the stupid rain or the lumps of snow that have yet to melt.
I did the same yesterday–I run on routine–then (as Laura predicted) I spent a big chunk of the day in the kitchen. If it’s got to be winter, you might as well spend some of your Sunday making a good, rich beef stew–and drop in some dumplings. [Note from Laura — there’s no recipe, Nora just went with the flow on this one.] I had, for some reason, a surplus of eggs, so made my man very happy by deviling some.
Today, I may fuss around the house. I might bake some bread. Since a rainy day provides the perfect backdrop, I may sit in front of the fire and read. February, for all its smirking smugness gives us all the opportunity to reflect on what we like to do in our own snug spaces. Surviving it just means allowing ourselves to do just that before spring comes and we throw open the windows again.
If I choose the fire and the book today, it will be To Kill A Mockingbird. We lost a literary luminary in Harper Lee. For me, Mockingbird is as close to a perfect book as ever written, and its beauty, its power, its voice lives on. I’ve read it countless times, and each time it grabs my heart, engages my mind, enlightens and entertains me.
As does the movie adaptation. Every time I’m told: No, no movie from your books–they’ll ruin it, they always do, I think of the brilliant film based on Harper Lee’s masterpiece. Again, for me, as close to perfection as it gets. There are other adaptations that hit that mark for me, but this is the standard. Yes, it can be done, and done beautifully. In fact, I may pull out my DVD and watch the movie again, too.
Thanks, February, you crazy bitch, for giving me a crappy Sunday to do just exactly what I want to do.
Now, just a little note. As often happens when a new In Death comes out, we revisit the calls for babies, kindly grandmothers–and Brotherhood’s no exception. I’ll repeat here Eve is NOT pregnant, not getting pregnant, and will not find some loving blood relation. I won’t get into all the reasons as I’ve done so before. But I also realize there are people new to the blog and/or FB who may not have read the previous blogs where I explain those reasons.
Enjoy your countdown to February’s inevitable demise, and take a day to do what you most want to do.