“I just want to wake up and it not be February,” Suzi said the other morning.
I got where she was coming from. Lately, it has felt like Punxsutawney Phil — pictured above from when I visited the town long ago — predicted six more weeks of February, and not winter, when he saw his shadow on Groundhog Day.
Although I must say, she went a little too far when she said she was tired of seeing Aaron Judge on my Yankee calendar. (Having looked at our upstairs Germany calendar, she informs me she is also tired of Dresden.)
Sure, he’s all kinds of frustrating when he’s slumping and swinging at pitches he couldn’t hit with an oar, but we are never to say we don’t want to see Aaron Judge. (Stay healthy this year, big guy.)
But I digress …
Maybe Phil’s acting in our best interest, because if February lasts forever, that means we’ll never reach March.
Yes, March is the month that makes us think winter is over, only to dash our hopes with cold, raw days and endless mud even if it’s not snowing, but this year, March is … March.
As in a year since the last March, when those of us who were unaware realized that life was about to change drastically, although I’m not sure by how much or for how long.
But America loves a good redemption story, and maybe tomorrow could be the start for March.
Now, to be clear, in the same way “I’m sorry to anyone who was offended” or “That’s not who I am” don’t come close to being acceptable apologies, March and the 11 months of Marches it unleashed afterward have so much to make amends for that a mere 31 days cannot be enough to undo what it has done.
But redemption has to begin somewhere, and tomorrow is as good a place to start as any … assuming Phil ever lets February end.
(By the way, the Yankee on my calendar for March is Gary Sanchez. Talk about someone who needs redemption … .)
Mild joking aside, I know it seems like this has lasted forever no matter what month it is, but if we can keep up with masks and social distancing and trying to be smart, hopefully we can get vaccinated and things will get better.
WHAT I WROTE
I hadn’t quite forgotten that it’s still OK to laugh at stuff, but it was getting close.
STUFF I READ
Jamie has been in a cycle of depression and pain lately. She’s trying to break it.
Best wishes for Vee’s baby nephew.
Rosie is fighting the idea of happiness being a destination as opposed to something she can work on right now.
People wrote nice things about Renata for her birthday.
Speaking of birthdays, Lisa’s fantasy birthday party would be quite the affair.
According to Austin, Aaron and Holly have an interesting discussion about Aaron’s writing choices.
Pamela writes the story of a woman taking extreme measures to find love.
I’m not crazy about drive-throughs, but Becky really doesn’t like them.
Should we be concerned about Lindsay’s interest in Henry VIII?
Zoe realizes she’s not all that different than the birds that attack their reflections in her doors.
I, of course, was brilliant long before I started wearing glasses, but Michelle wonders why poor eyesight is equated with intelligence … among other things.
What three things brought Savannah joy?
The boiler at James’ house broke, which created problems in addition to the house being cold.
This guy in Aaron’s story is having a very bad day.
TWEETS I LIKED
Almost as long as February.
They’re pains to put on and the buttons never stay buttoned … other than that, I’m a huge fan of duvet covers.
Someone please explain “too early for ice cream” for me.