We've made it.

It’s finally over.  We’ve made it through.  It’s been a long, hard 3/4 months, but we’re finally on the other side.

I’m talking, of course, about winter.

A winter that has brought us several rounds of snow.

Mostly viewed from the safety and warmth of the living room.  But we did venture out.

After the sun returned, of course.

This winter we have seen snow, sleet, hellacious wind, and temperatures in the teens and twenties most days.  You may think this is normal for winter, but I LIVE IN GEORGIA.  As in The South.  Where winters are supposed to be meek and mild.  Where we break out our scarves and hats when the temperature dips below 40 degrees.  We’re not prepared for temperatures in the teens!  We can’t handle ice on the roads!  You can’t get bread and milk into the grocery stores fast enough when the meteorologist says the dreaded S-word.

Aside:  I have never understood why people stock up on bread and milk when there is a threat of snow.  You might be housebound with no power, yet you buy two of the most perishable grocery items in bulk.  I guess a gallon of milk could go outside in the snow, but bread?  What’s up with that?  We should be stocking up on canned goods, MREs, and dried and/or jerkied meats.  You know, apocalyptic fare.  But I digress.

But the day of redemption is at hand!  Happy days are almost here again.  The joy of sunshine is right around the corner, although you couldn’t tell it by looking out my office window right now.  We had a lovely taste of spring this past Saturday in Montevallo, Alabama, where the Mister and I attended a dear friend’s wedding.  The wedding was outdoors on campus, right next to the dormitory in which I used to live.

As I’m sure most of you have never been to Montevallo, take my word when I say it is a beautiful campus.  The wedding took place on the lawn of Reynolds Hall.

It was absolutely beautiful outside.  The sun was shining, there were big white puffy clouds in the sky, and there was a lovely spring breeze blowing.  I very much enjoyed the opportunity to sit outside and get some sun on my pasty arms.  Oh, I also enjoyed seeing my friends, most of whom I haven’t seen in a few years.  But man, the sunshine!

Yesterday was sunny off and on, but on the way back to Atlanta we were treated to heavy rainfall.  Just the thing you want when you’re hurtling down I-85 (which is also the implied speed limit, and if you go under it you risk your life and the lives of those around you).  Today is overcast and below 60, but tomorrow the high is supposed to be in the mid-sixties, and on Wednesday, the high is 75!  And sunny for the next 10 days!  Only a chance of isolated storms on Sunday.  It makes my heart so happy to see such a forecast after months in the frozen tundra. I’m so tired of coats and sweaters and friggin’ SOCKS.  I haven’t worn socks in the past month out of sheer rebellion.  Yes, at times my feet have been cold.  But I.  HATE.  SOCKS.  I’m so ready for sandals and t-shirts and shorts.

Now mind you, I am in no shape for shorts at the moment.  My goal of 50 pounds by CJ’s first birthday in June seems to no longer be attainable.  I just can’t seem to diet and exercise while nursing.  I am getting a bit of exercise daily, but it’s nowhere near enough for any kind of notable weight loss.  Plus I hate the treadmill.  It sits there in our den every night, mocking me, ridiculing me, calling me fat names.  So I go upstairs to escape it.  The TV in the living room is closer to the kitchen anyway.

Maybe (I’m hoping) warm weather will provide me with the motivation I need to up my exercise.  I’m less than three months away from my breastfeeding goal of one year, so I think I could take it if my supply were to drop a little from diet and exercise.  I have a healthy freezer stash, so CJ’s daycare bottles will be covered.  He’s eating more table food anyway, so his dependence/interest on breastmilk should start to wane.  Dieting is just not for me, so exercise will have to be the way to go.

New season, new me.  Perhaps swimsuit shopping will get my butt in gear.

Or send me crying to the nearest Cinnabon.  Chances are 50/50.


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