Short on sunshine? Time for moonshine!

This is when winter gets difficult.

It's not that the cold becomes any more unbearable. Hey, I'd rather walk to the bus stop every morning swaddled in seven layers of coat, scarf, and hat than slog through standing water, tussle with an umbrella, and endure damp toes all day. My feet stay icy all day even when it's dry outside, but at least they're not wet!

No, winter gets hard now because I start to resent it. Sometimes it happens in December, sometimes it's in February, but I seem to always hit a wall of seasonal resentment after I've been teased with the possibility of snow, only to find--once again--that living at 13 feet above sea level does not provide one with the ideal circumstances for good snowfall. I feel inordinately let down when, after a week of freezing and expecting snow, we get a skiff of snow one night that melts before ten o'clock the next morning.

Come to think of it, though, I feel hugely let down even in winters when it does snow a few inches. After I do my merry SNOW! dance, walk around marvelling at the stillness, catch a few flakes on my tongue, throw some snowballs, build a snowman, drink a mug of cocoa, and take pictures...well, then it melts. And that's usually the end of our yearly snow allotment.

Either way, whether I've had snow or just the dream of snow, it feels like the best part of winter is over. Like all that remains between me and spring is a season of grey skies and rain puddles, fifteen-odd weeks of umbrella wrestling, damp toes, and soggy trouser hems. Okay, it's cold outside, it's winter, I get it. Can I please drink a smoothie without shivering yet?
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What's my solution to all this mind-numbing gloominess? Booze and music, to warm me through and through! My husband's band is playing at the Tractor Tavern tomorrow night, so me and my friends are gonna be havin' us some liquor and doin' us some toe-tappin'. That oughta lick the mid-winter crankiness for at least a couple of hours--at least until the alcohol buzz wears off, I guess.

So if anyone happens to google for Tractor Tavern and Murderer's Accordion (or Murderer's Accordian, as I keep seeing it spelled on their flyers...Steven, I really have to know which it's going to be), come on down at 9. Oh, it's a Thursday and you have to get to bed early? Well, I'm bringing my hot single lady friends--so come for the hotties, stay for the music. Or vice versa. Anything to keep you from whining about your cold feet for a few hours.

Oh, wait, that was me whining about the cold feet. Well, I stand by my advice: liquor and dancing!

I'm not actually advocating alcoholism here, you understand. My dad's an alcoholic, after all. I don't think I've even had any alcoholic beverages in over a month, actually. Let's not mistake the so-called "blogiverse" for the real world, okay? Boozing it up as a response to seasonal depression--funny to write, stupid to do. Just so we're clear. I'm consistently amazed at people's apparently endless capacity to take literally someone's idle online hyperbole.