It is February. I thought I would state that unequivocally and upfront so that I do not lose my status as one for the obvious. I have decided this year to just settle on the fact that though this is the shortest month of the year, it really is the longest. It is midwinter, it is going to be cold, and so I am just not going to fight it. And you have to admit it, the snow on the ground is beautiful—white and crisp and sparkly–although tomorrow it will most likely be rained away. I am going to enjoy it for today, the heck with tomorrow. (I believe this is called living in the moment—others may call it denial, but 6 of that, half a dozen of the other.)
Even though I do not have a meteorological degree, I do not depend on a little furry creature to predict when spring will come. Face it, spring is six weeks away, or winter will be at least six weeks longer. It is a great tradition to have the little guy poke his head out and either see his shadow or not, but seriously folks, he is not fooling us. The American guy predicts 6 more weeks of winter, and our little guy predicts six more weeks until spring. The difference is huge. Or non-existent. Depends on which side of the glass half full, half empty school you belong to. Personally, I like the theory that it does not matter whether it is half full or empty—all that matters is that you can fill it up again. (Who says I am not philosophical—these are exactly the little gems you tune in for each week—my wise observations stolen from the Internets.)
How about that Super Bowl—another great February tradition. Went to bed with the Falcons ahead—by a lot. Got up to the Patriots winning. Just goes to show you—never give up hope. Though I do feel sorry for the Atlanta guys—you think you have things wrapped up and then the bow gives way. As Roseanna Roseannadanna (Gilda Radner’s iconic SNL character) used to say: “It’s always something…”
I am a new fan of Lady Gaga. Saw her half-time show on Facebook and was duly impressed. Is it a bird, is it a plane—no it was Super Gaga. (You had to see it). I figure if Tony Bennett likes her, that is good enough for me. (I have just recently become a fan of his too—used to think of him as of my parents’ generation, but as I have gotten older, I have gotten wiser. Cough, cough…)
So, what is the other big news this month of 28 days? (Have you been caught by that new internet questionnaire that asks how many months have 28 days? I have and am so proud of myself for saying all of them. Will not tell you though how long I pondered that question.) I have veered off topic again—something I am wont to do. The other big deal is that Valentine’s Day is coming up. Love or hate it, it is a reality, but in my book, anything that celebrates over priced chocolate and roses worth their weight in gold can’t be all bad. (Or can it? —another existential question with no answer.)
As an older (yet still strikingly immature) married woman, Valentine’s Day does not have the hold on me as it did in my younger dating days. I kind of hated the day sometimes, and loved it other times—but always resented the fact that a stupid holiday could have such an effect on me. I think that manipulative holidays should be outlawed, but hey, that is just my humble opinion.
Valentine’s Day would also have been my youngest older brother John’s 71st birthday. In his memory, I am determined to raise a Manhattan –a drink that was one of his favourites. I have never had one before, but will make the ultimate “sacrifice” in his honour. Also, my nephew Mark is celebrating his 50th on Tuesday the 7th. (Happy Birthday Mark!) I was a mere kid when he was born—just saying’…
Every month has its special days, but I think February is unique in that it celebrates not only sports, family, and love, but furry animal predictions. These celebrations are the cornerstones of our lives—and demarcations of a life well-lived. In that spirit, I wish you all a Happy Valentine’s Day, and may you celebrate it as you see fit.
*In literary criticism, stream of consciousness is a narrative mode or device that depicts the multitudinous thoughts and feelings which pass through the mind. The term was coined by William James in 1890 in his The Principles of Psychology…(Wikipedia)