How I’m Making Winter My Bitch

Last winter, I had a tough go of it.
In fairness to myself, when I was not in pain, I was making flavorless Rice Krispie treats. So really, I was not giving myself a head start. There were some high points, though. I had a cozy green chair I could not get out of, and I had friends who showed up and helped pull me out of my funk. Still, if I had to sum up last winter in a nutshell, the word suckish would cover it pretty well.

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This winter is going much smoother, and I have done nothing consciously to make that happen. You would think I would have planned ahead after last year, maybe made a list or set an intention or something responsible like that. Nope. Winter just tiptoed up on me this year, the sneaky bastard. And yet, here we are. Is winter still a bit of a life sucker? Yes. Is it dragging me down the way it has in past years? No. Call it a better attitude, call it making the best of a crappy situation, call it stuffing my face with mass quantities of carbohydrates while watching Gilmore Girls. Whatever it takes to get through to daylight savings time is whatever it takes.

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Last weekend, I went to my friend Marcia’s essential oil gathering, where we made things like soap.
That was very Laura Ingalls of us, was it not? I should say, I do not do homesteading. I want to do it, in theory, but you lose me at words like Borax. This, however, was so easy. We made soap in ten minutes. Ten minutes. Nels Olsen would have been so proud.

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This here is Marcia’s weed:

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Lavender. It is lavender. You guys are gullible.

See what you are missing when you skip those oil parties? I hear all you mean bloggers making fun of the oil people. Well, the joke is on you because they have all the weed on their counters.

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There was ganja soap. It was beautiful. I am having an oil party in April, so if you want to make hashish soap or lip balm, I can hook you up.
Again, lavender. Please still come to my party.

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We also made lip balms in ten minutes. Marcia did most of the work. I just poured things into tubes. Let me say this clearly: those are the best lip balms I have ever used, and there is no junk in them. I am officially sold on oils. Must be the dope*.

*Lavender

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We also had our auras read. Or possibly our credit card numbers. It was a machine that told us what our bodies were missing. According to mine, I needed more Jesus, fewer tacos, and more weed*.

*Lavender

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A few weekends ago, the four of us plus one of Anna’s friends headed over the border to Wisconsin for an overnight getaway involving skiing and snow tubing near Green Bay. We stayed about twenty minutes from the entire Making a Murderer documentary. I have been traveling through that area for over twenty years, on the way to northern Wisconsin or Door County more times than I can count. I had stayed in Manitowoc before. I knew it well. But now, after Netflix, it felt different, which is not really fair to the people who live there.

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We decided to drive around a bit on our way home, just to see the area we recognized from the show. Honestly, it felt a little wrong. At the end of the day, a woman was murdered, and sightseeing around that fact did not sit right with me.

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On the way to ski, we passed a country church we could see for miles. That is what Manitowoc County is really like. Flat land, farms, churches, cheese shops, and friendly people.

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Mike found the ski place online, and it was unbelievably affordable. Eighty dollars for all four of us. Near home, that would not even get two people into ski boots. I have been skiing since junior high and have wanted to get my girls on skis forever, but money has always gotten in the way.

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Ski boots on my tootsies for the first time in years.
It felt so good.

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This was special. I may or may not have teared up seeing my girls in ski boots. Cheesy, yes, but also a full-circle moment.

It was cold. Like a high of nine degrees cold. Nine. So we had the slopes almost entirely to ourselves.

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It had been twelve years since I had been on skis, and usually it is like riding a bike for me. This time, not so much. I am older, and the snow was hard and icy. I fell. A lot. Falling is not the problem. Getting back up is. I could not get up. At all. It sounds funny now. It was not funny then.

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my first fall

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my third fall and after which I started using really bad words

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After the third fall, my hip hurt. I actually said my hip hurts out loud. Who am I. I gave up. Perhaps if I had some lavender, I would have been a better skier.

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We tried to teach Ella, but she preferred hot chocolate and popcorn in the lodge. Smart girl. I will try again next year when it is not nine degrees.

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After an hour and a half, we returned our skis, and the man working there felt so bad for us that he let us go tubing for free. This is why I love small resorts. The kindness is real. And it turns out, we love tubing.

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No effort involved.

And on this day, we had the hills relatively to ourselves because NINE degrees.

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Eventually, it was just too cold to continue, so we piled into the car and headed home, making one brief stop along the way. The girls slept in the back while we did some very quick investigating.

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It was only ten minutes from the tubing park.

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We didn’t drive down the road – we only sat here for two seconds to take the picture because we just wanted to get out of there.

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On Valentine’s Day, Mike and I snuck out for a midday movie like teenagers because there was a movie we really wanted to see. It felt like 1986 all over again.

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So maybe winter is not all bad.
I have my people. I have my ganja*.
Things are looking up.

*Lavender