Monday, March 28, 2005

The Mean Reds

OK, what the hell is this? Here I sit ready to compose a new blog entry in which I wax lyrical about Easter and chocolate and the kick-ass (or at least ass widening) cinnamon rolls I made for breakfast, yesterday. Yet, I can't do it.

I have landed in the middle of an anxiety attack and want to crawl out of my skin or crawl under a desk. I used to get these, shall we say "frequently", if by frequently you mean at least 5 days out of 7, for many years. I used to track the severity of them on the desk calendar in my office, just to feel like I was doing something. I gave them a number, 1-10. For months and months I rated each day, looking for some sort of pattern: caffeine, donuts, call, hormones, whether the cat was in a snit (doesn't count, she always was). The only thing that correlated was work, especially being on call. Huh. Go figure. A highly stressful 60-80 hour a week job with the joys of at least one night a week on call would worsen anxiety. Sometimes I even amaze myself with my self-awareness.

Magically, with the move east and settling in with a new, much less stressful job, with no call, and not even a pager, the episodes have culled themselves down to about 2-3 times a year. So this is one of the times. I am actually starting to come down already, so don't spare a thought of concern. By the time you read this, I will be back to my even-keeled self and wondering if I should even have posted this, but I think I won't delete it. Sometimes it is good to have a reminder of how good you have it. And why you will never, ever go back there again.

And now, back to our regularly scheduled piffle.

Yes, the kidlets had a fun candy-gorging day of no nutritional value. For the first time in 5 Easters here, it not only didn't snow, it was warm and sunny! As both Charles and Lilian (my mother-in-law) were home, that meant I got to do what my heart desired, which was to completely clean out the front flower beds. IN A T-SHIRT! No coat. No sweatshirt. For 3 heavenly hours, until my back let it be known that was enough. I found a colony of crocus ready to bloom in the next day or so hiding behind some old sedum heads, googles of daffodils looking like they are set to bloom next week and tulips that will probably pop the week after. Treasure. Under the dead foliage of the perennials are purple or green new-foliage noses. The lilacs and cherry tree have bud swellings. The rhubarb is starting to poke up. I nearly burst into song. Really and truly. Something Rogers and Hammerstein, I am sure. And, lastly, I trotted out to the herb garden and snipped a handful of fresh thyme for the onions I was roasting, crossing the grass in my bare feet, with wet hair. How I live on the edge.

Ladies and gentlemen, I do believe it is spring! Nearly! Another few days of this and the snow will all be gone, at least the old stuff, and no new snow in the forecast for at least a week.

Tra la, tra la, tra la. Better now.

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Anonymous Anonymous said...

Sorry about the anxiety. Sounds like a bit of Ole Dad's Granola would be just the ticket.

Out west, winter has returned. We have made up the March rain deficit over the past weekend and it is back to tights for the morning run. Should be cruddy weather until track season ends. Camilias are all over the ground and not on the end of their twigs as per normal. Back to the wood stove and my book.


2:40 PM  
Blogger Rozanne said...

Yay! You finally got to potter in the garden--and discover evidence of spring. I love that.

The thing about spring in the Midwest is that it is much accelerated. It comes in one short sweet burst!

6:38 PM  
Blogger Diana said...

Dad- Granola! That's what I'll have for breakfast tomorrow. I have a batch of cranberry walnut at the ready and a carton of yoghurt. Perfect.

Rozanne, darling, yes! Just like a silly Breck's catalogue where the crocuses (croci?) bloom next to the tulips next to the peonys. The first crocuses are blooming today, right on schedule. Purple.

8:55 PM  

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