IF THERE EVER WAS A VILLAN....

Dear January,

I loathe you.
But I will retaliate tomorrow. 

The end. 

I almost made it through the perils of a gloomy, cold, wet January unscathed. With less than 48 hours to  crossing the threshold into February,  the wrath of winter blues snuck in. My children and mother were the unsuspecting recipients of my tantrum. By 4:26 pm I had eaten through a half a bag of chips and cried all my makeup off. I knew the last 24 hours of January would be bearable because of my ski club and the glorious 10 inches of fresh powder I'll be shredding tomorrow morning... but getting to tomorrow felt like trudging through 45 miles of lava, uphill, and barefoot. So I did what any other defeated mother of three squalling toddlers would have done... wrestled the kids into their car seats and headed for freedom. Boondocks. I shelled out $15 for an hour of survival while the kids climbed around the indoor play zone. It was enough time to pull myself together,  buy a $5 pizza and chose to survive 24 more hours until the sweet relief of the sanity February brings. Good bye January. You scored one on me... but I plan to retaliate with friends, powder skiing, and a family date to Fiiz, the new fandangled soda shop in town.