Check out my article on three active outdoors valentines dates (and one anti-valentines excursion for the bitter, the heartbroken, or the just not feeling it.)
I can't write much of anything until I respond to you, because when I asked 'how are you doing' you really told me.
Here is the first letter to all of us. Not the last as I have more ground to cover.
I'm sorry they stole your wallet and used it to buy shower gel, but in a way it's hilarious, something you'll talk about at dinner parties. 'What sort of people shop at Bath and Body Works?' you'll ask, and after a moment's silence you'll stand up and shout- Criminals! Criminals, that's who!
With regards to your glorious moments, it does not concern me that they are tiny, most glory comes small like that. I wish there was a special bank where you could put the glory specks and wait for them to accumulate into something really sparkling. Something that burns the barn down. But there's not so just try to enjoy them.
And that situation, with the fired locomotive, that sounds difficult. But the union will give em' hell, that's what they always do in the movies, and if you want to stay in the mountains then just stay, you'll figure it out. You'll build a little castle out of cardboard and boil shoes for dinner, if it comes to that, and it won't come to that, although I am speaking as someone who once gnawed on a belt to test for flavor. Cause it almost did come to that.
And then it didn't.
Your optimism does not make us sick, we rather like to see that spunk in you since you've been down for so long. But I can't believe you're at a spin class at 5:30 am, see- that does make me sick. But I'm happy for you anyway, I'm just jealous.
You with the perma-grin, the pockets of stress, the whirlwind: we love you because you make it all sound like beat poetry. When my bad week becomes an actual whirlwind and not just a series of days slapping together, it makes me feel like a force. Like something out of a batman picture.
What really gets to me though is what you've told us about your dog. This idea of her snout on your palm, your whispering, how she can smell you but nothing else. When you go to walk her and there isn't anyone there to walk anymore, that hurts worse than stepping on a lego, doesn't it? If I haven't been there yet, just give me some time, because that's the horrible promise you bring home with a dog.
And yes, most of us are ready for spring. Have a drink of water while you wait and you won't be so thirsty but I hear you, it's agitating, waiting for dead things to resurrect. Less so if you're living in the Southwest under the blue skies with your heart balloon lifting, more so if your head is drooped over a desk littered with the IUPAC nomenclature systems.
So the novel has been keeping you up again? That sounds romantic but I know it's not, it doesn't matter the source, insomnia is insomnia, fidgety and unfair. You're leaving the job and moving, along with the kids and dogs, of course you're scared shitless. Now that should keep you up at night. But try and hold onto that fear a little, because everything will be fine, the fear will go away, and so often it's replaced by...how did you describe it? "Meh." Maybe it's a February feeling. Meh.
Of course if you just moved to Maine you're not Meh, you're snowed in and happy. Maine is where we all could live if we could, so do us a favor and enjoy it. And if you're truly unhappy with Moses Lake, Washington, well- maybe you could try Maine.
Some of us are so happy and you can tell just by the punctuation, like we're celebrating our ten year anniversary of the day we met and in six weeks we'll celebrate our five year anniversary of marriage and until then it's all pizza and champagne! Some of us are comfortable and predictable and running our tongues over new metal in the mouth. You'll get used to it. We all did.
But many of us are bruised (we fell off the treadmill) and we are mushrooms, but hopeful mushrooms, because after we get the apartment with the bigger windows who knows, maybe we'll grow into something kinda lovely, like moss. Something way better then mushrooms, anyway.
Melina, and everybody else.
****But who won the mystery prize? Well now I can tell you.
The winner is....
Things are not going the best. There have been some shake ups at work, and I'm feeling unsettled about it. It's February and our yard is covered with ice and snow. I'm ready for spring and sunshine.
B, I'm sorry you're feeling unsettled, maybe I can help. Email firstname.lastname@example.org and we'll get you sorted, and congratulations! You're a winner!