Not me. I was born in the correct era, the 1980's to be exact. Everything about the timing is perfect for me - big hair bands, Top Gun, modern conveniences. I'm a born and bred Okie. I routinely sing our state song (and popular Broadway show tune), "Oklahoma!" at the top of my lungs. I'm proud that my state is full of "the nicest people" and that we pulled together after the 1995 bombing of the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building. We are a strong, resilient group of folks. Watch the nightly news during the springtime and you'll see that each report is a montage of tornado damage. We rebuild, reconstruct and press on. My blood is a mix of Native Americans (probably Black Foot and Cherokee), Irish and English. Like most Okies, I'm a mutt, which is humbling and character-building at the same time. I like who I am, but these doldrums of winter (after the holidays and before spring blossoming) are the hardest, most depressing time of year. I might have been born in the correct era, but definitely in the wrong geographical region.
We had the opportunity to briefly live in Denver and although I grew to dread the massive amounts of snow, at least I had a beautiful mountain range to look at or fun wintertime activities to keep me busy. We literally had a white Christmas snuggled up in front of the fireplace, drinking hot toddies, and it was perfect, no complaining from me. We were shoveling snow all the way through May, but something about the crisp, clear mountain air and spectacular views made up for the lack of warmth.
While in southern Florida a few weeks back, I felt like I shook off my persistent chill bumps and came alive. It was the radiant sun, pleasantly mixed with humidity and blue skies that thawed my soul. I'm a beach girl at heart and the Oklahoma winters, even mild ones, just about do me in. The never-ceasing wind, overcast days, with bitterly chilly nights just make me want to put my head under the covers and not come out until the temperate is at least 70 degrees outside. Oklahoma in the winter resembles a barren wasteland. If you were just passing through, you might consider never visiting again. You have to catch it April - October to realize that it's not so bad, but I'm suppose to live in a 365-day warm environment. I look better, am nicer and more energetic when the heat rises. Everything about me could be improved if I moved down a few lines of latitude. Some people enjoy having 4 distinct seasons. Not me. I want summer all year long. I'm supposed to live in flip flops and sundresses with my hair bleached from the sun, pulled back into a ponytail.
But, like I said, we press on. Each afternoon, we walk the dogs around the neighborhood (bundled up, of course) and I inspect every tree, every branch for a sign of a single bloom. Just one is all it will take to get my hopes up that spring is around the corner. I know it is. It has to be! I only have to make it through a few more weeks of the winter doldrums to feel a warm southern wind bringing everything back to life and perking me up, out of my winter blahs.
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| Baby girl on Christmas morning. She's oblivious to the winter doldrums! |
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| In warmer weather, Disney World! |
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| Enjoying pineapple-flavored ice cream in Disney World. |
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| Baby girl enjoying the warm evenings in Florida. |
Watch me out grow my rugby bear!
Annabelle, 11 months old, February 1, 2013.
