It snowed again. What's with the idiots on the road in their big SUVs that think they can just plow down the road without any regard whatsoever for the other drivers? Today, I was the fifth car following the snowplow/sander down a busy two lane highway. We were in the left lane. There was no passing because the plow had a plume of shit (snow, slush and God knows what, maybe sand) that it was throwing off into the right lanes. Unless you wanted your car doused with the crap, you'd be an idiot to try to get ahead of it. And besides, who wants to get ahead of the plow when it's clearing the road as it goes along, making it safer for you to drive? But, no, every so often, there was some ass who would try to pass the plow in the right lane and invariably, got completely deluged by the plume. You could literally hear the snow, ice and slush just pummel into the side and top of their vehicle, even five cars behind. One car was so plowed with crap, it nearly went off the road. And, truthfully, you couldn't help but smile and say, "What the hell were you thinking would happen, you freakin' jerk!" or something of the sort.
While I was cautiously driving and listening to the local news station, some girl called and said she didn't know what the "big deal" was, "it's not that much snow" and she didn't know why the parkway was "so backed up." She then boasted that she was on her way "up North to spend the day snowboarding." The radio host asked what she was driving and she said "a Suburban." So, we the listeners all knew that here was a spoiled brat who probably doesn't even hold a job, whose parents have given her a large SUV, that she was carelessly barrelling down the parkway in, totally unaffected and unconcerned about anyone else on the road, regardless of their age or what type of vehicle they were driving. I wanted to scream, "You're probably the dipshit who caused the massive multicar accident on the parkway that caused it to back up about seven miles, you damn brat!" Apparently, I wasn't the only listener who became incensed as others began calling in, spewing off digs about this girl's attitude, especially those callers who had already been delayed an hour or so by the horrendous road conditions during their commute. Admittedly, I found myself hoping that any moment she'd call back and announce that she'd been sideswiped by a plow and that her snowboard smashed her windshield after being rammed up her butt and shot out through her left nostril. Or something. But, I know, you should never wish bad things on people.
It's like the moron who doesn't sweep off the snow from the top of their vehicle so that while driving down the road, suddenly their Mount Everast flies off, smashing into your windshield and blinding you for a moment while hopefully, not breaking your wipers. "Hey, jerk!" you want to yell, "Why don't you have your damn Honor Student clean off your car before you take it on the road!" You know the type. They have the cute little stick family stickers on their back windshield, sometimes with a cat or a dog. And a Jesus fish.
I'm always astounded by the people who are so self-absorbed on the road during hazardous weather. Usually, bad weather brings out the best in people. They shovel walkways for old ladies. They drive carefully, not just because they want to safely get to where they're going, but they sincerely want you to as well. They push and rock and shovel out vehicles that get stuck in the snow or plowed in. They sometimes freeze their own butts off to help other people. It's a "coming together" against the elements kind of mentality. We're all in this together, may as well help out those less fortunate. I always tell the gas attendants to "try to stay warm today." So, when I see people who are less than courteous, I am aghast. Most of them are on the roads. Most of them are in SUVs. I have a SUV. I'm short. I'm very short. I know it's difficult to get the snow off the top of my vehicle. That's why I married someone who is tall. And, if he's not around, that's what brooms are for. It's awkward, yes. It's unpleasant, I know. But, it's the law. I wouldn't own such a vehicle if I didn't have a tall husband or a broom.
At the same token, I don't understand the rush. Everyone knows it snowed. Everyone knows road conditions are bad. Everyone is running late. Bosses know their employees will arrive late or, in some instances, not at all. Doctors offices are often flooded with messages cancelling appointments. Flights are delayed. I never understand then why everyone feels they have to get out on the road and go, despite the fact it's dangerous and the likelihood of an accident is high. Wait it out. Let the plows do their jobs. Your boss isn't paying your car insurance or repairs if you're in an accident, right? So, take your time if you go in at all. Hit the road after the rush hour. Get out on the road when temperatures are safely above freezing so there's no "black ice" to worry about. Unless you are habitually out for any reason at all, many employers don't consider snow days as your personal days or sick days. If you can't get to work because you're under two feet of snow, there's a good chance everyone else is as well, including the boss. There's nothing more important than your safety and the safety of others.
As for you young, spoiled idiots who drive the trucks paid for by Mommy and Daddy, tell the victims of the car accidents that delayed your snowboarding trip that it was "no big deal." Go ahead and look them in the eye and tell them that. See where that gets you. And maybe when the snow and slush and salt is cleared off your vehicle after you cut off the snowplow, you'll find it has pitted the paint on your expensive vehicle and the sand, salt and grime has ground out your window motor and it won't open anymore.
I can only hope. Ya jerk!
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Winter's Solitude - A photo essay of a saltwater marsh in NJ
For some reason, since mid-November, I hadn't been out of the house but to go to work, food and holiday shopping. Before I knew it, the holidays were upon us, as well as over two feet of snow. By mid-January, with temperatures too low to melt most of the snow three weeks old, I was suddenly overcome by cabin fever. Thankfully, a Saturday came with a temperature of nearly 40 degrees (but not quite), so I bundled up and headed outdoors with my two cameras in hand to a nearby saltwater marsh wetland park for some fresh air.
The gentle, cold breeze rustled the nearby phragmites and in the far distance, I could hear an occasional squawk from a feathered friend. 
I was immediately awed by the frozen waves, suspending it seemed, the entire bay that was so alive only months before with boats, jetskis and wakes that slapped ashore. As I strolled along the bayside, the crackling of the frozen waves beneath my feet broke the otherwise deafening vast silence that surrounded me. Upon closer examination, it appeared as if the foam that was normally present on the edges of each wave ripple was captured in time as ice.
I walked about a mile before returning to my car and headed for the main entrance to the park to see if the trails were accessible through the saltwater marsh. Although there were several other cars in the lot, with people either arriving or leaving, on the trails themselves I did not encounter another human being. My first stop, however, was to the observation deck that overlooks the marsh basin. There, I was greeted by a little surprise.
I hit the red trail and started my journey. The forest around me provided some protection against the cold breeze. The trail was snow-covered, but manageable with the boots I wore. The sounds of nature surrounded me from utter silence to the occasional gentle wind, the dripping of melting snow onto a log, a rippling in the stream, and every so often quacking geese, but most amazingly, were the curious creeking noises of some of the trees which was at once both creepy and marvelous.
The dramatic contrast of the snow covered trees was reflected perfectly upon the dark water of the stream in an eerie, yet striking manner. The deadness of winter was evident, yet alive all the same as life hibernated behind the mask of bitter temperatures and under blankets of snow.
Snow sprinkled feathery "cat tails" caught my eye as well.
Unfortunately, it was only a matter of time before a call from the outside world on my cell beckoned me to head back, just about an hour before sunset.
I look forward to returning to Cattus Island again. It's a peaceful retreat, any time of year and a testimony that beauty exists along the Jersey Shore in winter if you just take the time to notice.
Monday, January 10, 2011
Weather Report
The greatest job in the world has to be meterologist, especially the ones on tv, the celebrity "weatherman." First of all, it seems to be a mandatory requirement that if you're a meterologist (which are generally males, if you'll note), you have to be somewhat goofy, gregarious and maybe even a tad eccentric so that people gather around cheering as you predict the weather. As a representative of the forecast on every morning show, it is incumbant upon them to leave the studio and hit the street, surround themselves with fans of the show who cheer and hold up signs mouthing, "I love you" to their family back home who are sitting just inches from their televisions with coffee cups in hand, "There she is!" Then the celebrity weatherman refers back to "your local weatherman" who is usually in a studio or radio station to give your area's specific forecast (always a lesser known meterologist and without the fanfare). The morning show celebrity meterologist seems to have to engage in some sort of schtick or joviality every day while the local guys and gals are just pleasant. No matter what, though, all their forecasts are usually wrong.
Then there's the ones from the "Weather Channel." Without fail, the women usually end up pregnant and eventually block out the entire eastern corridor as their bellies expand before they give birth and are never seen again. The men are the ones that usually get sent out "on location" to some horrendous weather location, either during the heart of a major storm like a blizzard or hurricane when they're often tethered to something concrete (hopefully), or they're reporting from the ruins and aftermath of a horrific weather event like a tornado. There's also the poor guy who always seems to be reporting from some airport that's backed up with cancelled flights due to a storm. I suspect he's usually "the new guy."
The best part of being a meterologist, however, is that you never lose your job, despite the fact that they are all generally wrong about their forecasts, at least 70% of the time. I've never seen a less precise science. Despite all our advanced technology and incredible knowledge, I am astounded by the inaccuracy of weather reporting. I understand that there are times when there could be a 50% chance of rain and it could go either way, just from one town to the next, a true hit or miss. But, when you start getting into the 75% chance of rain, I expect to see rain, not sunshine. I expect overcast and cloudy at least part of the day. If I hear 60%, I spend a great deal of time fretting because I know that if I cancel plans, the clouds will never come, but if I go ahead with them, there will be a deluge of rain. I'm not just talking "luck" here, either. Perhaps the most disturbing of all, is the inaccuracy of the forecasting where it concerns snowstorms. Time and time again, they predict accumulations that are totally off the mark. When they say a storm could produce less than ten inches of snow, it's generally more and best you be prepared for the worst. When they "predict" it could be about four inches, it's a dusting that never sticks. More often than not, people run to the stores and stock up on food when it turns out to be nothing more than rain. Of course, when they say that it'll be a rain and sleet mix, you never bother going to the store and then wake up the next day under two feet of snow and no groceries simply because during the night, temperatures dropped to 25 degrees and everything froze. But, when it's 36 degrees and daylight, don't expect more than rain or sleet, despite what they might tell you. 33 degrees, it's iffy, but 36 degrees means rain.
On a positive note, however, if you're the type who did prepare by stocking up on food supplies, at least if you lose your power for any length of time, you can just take those groceries and stick them in the snow outside your back door (if you have one) to keep cold. In fact, we stock our garage during the winter with all kinds of cold beverages. We'll never go thirsty in the winter and we know the field mice seeking shelter in there from the lower temps can't open jars and canned goods, so no worries there.
As I once read in an explanation, a forecast is ALWAYS correct, because it's not really a prediction of what will happen, it's a statement about the frequency of what came next when similar patterns occurred in the past. "We just expect too much of them!"
I take issue with that, however. According to my Webster's dictionary, the definition of "forecast" is: a prediction. And a prediction is: the telling of something in advance. There's no mention about either being based upon the past. And, frankly, based on the past, they've been notoriously wrong about predicting upcoming weather conditions. Sounds like the explanation given was construed by lawyers so the weather stations wouldn't be held liable for any unforeseen changes in the forecasts.
Then there's the ambiguous forecasting technique which scrolls across the screen, for example: "STARTING TUESDAY NIGHT THROUGH THE END OF NEXT WEEK. . . THERE IS THE POTENTIAL FOR A WIDESPREAD HEAVY SNOW EVENT SOMEWHERE IN WESTERN NEW JERSEY. . . GREAT UNCERTAINTY INHERENTLY EXISTS IN A FORECAST WITH THIS MUCH LEAD TIME. . AND IT IS POSSIBLE THAT A HEAVY SNOW SITUATION WILL NOT DEVELOP."
I think forecasters are in cahoots with retailers, frankly. People hear what they want to hear, so throw them a morsel and watch them go into utter panic and race out to the local market to stock up, run to the hardware store for shovels and spreading salt and over to KMart for some new mittens for the kids who lost the last pair sledding after the unforeseen snow storm that blew through the week prior.
My favorite weather reporting is when they say it's 29 degrees "feels like 13" with the wind chills. Where do they come up with those numbers? Who is to say what it "feels" like? What exactly does the difference feel like between 13, 14 or 15 degrees anyway? "It feels like 12 degrees out here!" you yell as you chisel the ice off your windshield. "No, no" says your neighbor, "it's more like 15, that's what the weatherman said." "Oh, go f*ck yourself!" you scream through chattering teeth and brutal winds. And is that determined by how many layers you're wearing or from what material your coat is? Certainly a coat made from bear is warmer than a wool coat. Or, is it solely based on how quickly your ears freeze if not covered and the strength of the wind? Because even a 5 mph wind in 20 degrees is ferocious on the ears.
No matter what, however, weathermen just never lose their jobs for inaccurate forecasting. They may lose their jobs because they show up inebriated or don't show up at all, but never because of their shoddy forecasts. It's a great gig. Where else can one work and repeatedly screw up and not get fired? One can spend hours gathering information and reading Doplars, only to share that information with multitudes of people (many of whom plan their entire day or weekend based on the information provdided) and not have any consequences when the information sharing is completely wrong. And either all the channels give you completely different readings or they tell you the same exact prediction. I don't know which is worse, but I can guarantee they're all wrong anyway. I used to think that Weatherman A would cheat and just look over at Weatherman B's report two channels over and then read it as if it were his own prediction. Why not? It's not like anyone would fire them for it. How would they even know?
Indeed, it's the best job in the world.
Then there's the ones from the "Weather Channel." Without fail, the women usually end up pregnant and eventually block out the entire eastern corridor as their bellies expand before they give birth and are never seen again. The men are the ones that usually get sent out "on location" to some horrendous weather location, either during the heart of a major storm like a blizzard or hurricane when they're often tethered to something concrete (hopefully), or they're reporting from the ruins and aftermath of a horrific weather event like a tornado. There's also the poor guy who always seems to be reporting from some airport that's backed up with cancelled flights due to a storm. I suspect he's usually "the new guy."
The best part of being a meterologist, however, is that you never lose your job, despite the fact that they are all generally wrong about their forecasts, at least 70% of the time. I've never seen a less precise science. Despite all our advanced technology and incredible knowledge, I am astounded by the inaccuracy of weather reporting. I understand that there are times when there could be a 50% chance of rain and it could go either way, just from one town to the next, a true hit or miss. But, when you start getting into the 75% chance of rain, I expect to see rain, not sunshine. I expect overcast and cloudy at least part of the day. If I hear 60%, I spend a great deal of time fretting because I know that if I cancel plans, the clouds will never come, but if I go ahead with them, there will be a deluge of rain. I'm not just talking "luck" here, either. Perhaps the most disturbing of all, is the inaccuracy of the forecasting where it concerns snowstorms. Time and time again, they predict accumulations that are totally off the mark. When they say a storm could produce less than ten inches of snow, it's generally more and best you be prepared for the worst. When they "predict" it could be about four inches, it's a dusting that never sticks. More often than not, people run to the stores and stock up on food when it turns out to be nothing more than rain. Of course, when they say that it'll be a rain and sleet mix, you never bother going to the store and then wake up the next day under two feet of snow and no groceries simply because during the night, temperatures dropped to 25 degrees and everything froze. But, when it's 36 degrees and daylight, don't expect more than rain or sleet, despite what they might tell you. 33 degrees, it's iffy, but 36 degrees means rain.
On a positive note, however, if you're the type who did prepare by stocking up on food supplies, at least if you lose your power for any length of time, you can just take those groceries and stick them in the snow outside your back door (if you have one) to keep cold. In fact, we stock our garage during the winter with all kinds of cold beverages. We'll never go thirsty in the winter and we know the field mice seeking shelter in there from the lower temps can't open jars and canned goods, so no worries there.
As I once read in an explanation, a forecast is ALWAYS correct, because it's not really a prediction of what will happen, it's a statement about the frequency of what came next when similar patterns occurred in the past. "We just expect too much of them!"
I take issue with that, however. According to my Webster's dictionary, the definition of "forecast" is: a prediction. And a prediction is: the telling of something in advance. There's no mention about either being based upon the past. And, frankly, based on the past, they've been notoriously wrong about predicting upcoming weather conditions. Sounds like the explanation given was construed by lawyers so the weather stations wouldn't be held liable for any unforeseen changes in the forecasts.
Then there's the ambiguous forecasting technique which scrolls across the screen, for example: "STARTING TUESDAY NIGHT THROUGH THE END OF NEXT WEEK. . . THERE IS THE POTENTIAL FOR A WIDESPREAD HEAVY SNOW EVENT SOMEWHERE IN WESTERN NEW JERSEY. . . GREAT UNCERTAINTY INHERENTLY EXISTS IN A FORECAST WITH THIS MUCH LEAD TIME. . AND IT IS POSSIBLE THAT A HEAVY SNOW SITUATION WILL NOT DEVELOP."
I think forecasters are in cahoots with retailers, frankly. People hear what they want to hear, so throw them a morsel and watch them go into utter panic and race out to the local market to stock up, run to the hardware store for shovels and spreading salt and over to KMart for some new mittens for the kids who lost the last pair sledding after the unforeseen snow storm that blew through the week prior.
My favorite weather reporting is when they say it's 29 degrees "feels like 13" with the wind chills. Where do they come up with those numbers? Who is to say what it "feels" like? What exactly does the difference feel like between 13, 14 or 15 degrees anyway? "It feels like 12 degrees out here!" you yell as you chisel the ice off your windshield. "No, no" says your neighbor, "it's more like 15, that's what the weatherman said." "Oh, go f*ck yourself!" you scream through chattering teeth and brutal winds. And is that determined by how many layers you're wearing or from what material your coat is? Certainly a coat made from bear is warmer than a wool coat. Or, is it solely based on how quickly your ears freeze if not covered and the strength of the wind? Because even a 5 mph wind in 20 degrees is ferocious on the ears.
No matter what, however, weathermen just never lose their jobs for inaccurate forecasting. They may lose their jobs because they show up inebriated or don't show up at all, but never because of their shoddy forecasts. It's a great gig. Where else can one work and repeatedly screw up and not get fired? One can spend hours gathering information and reading Doplars, only to share that information with multitudes of people (many of whom plan their entire day or weekend based on the information provdided) and not have any consequences when the information sharing is completely wrong. And either all the channels give you completely different readings or they tell you the same exact prediction. I don't know which is worse, but I can guarantee they're all wrong anyway. I used to think that Weatherman A would cheat and just look over at Weatherman B's report two channels over and then read it as if it were his own prediction. Why not? It's not like anyone would fire them for it. How would they even know?
Indeed, it's the best job in the world.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Winter Blues
UGH. Only about six days into Winter and having just made it through Christmas, we were slammed with a N'oreaster with blizzard-like results, forcing most of the Jersey coast into a state of paralysis for nearly a week between the two major holidays. Three days home from work because of the storm, I ate up all the cookies and cakes leftover from Christmas, simmered a pot of soup, a crock of stew and enjoyed alot of television time with the remote while my poor husband froze his ass off shoveling and snowblowing our large driveway, walkway and part of our deck. It was great.
Oh, I mean, you know, it was great when he was all done shovelling and could hang out with me. That's really what I meant, I swear it.
So much so that I began thumbing through my guide books and doing internet research, picking out destinations for weekend getaways and vacations for the year ahead. Since the past year was spent hiking and driving through the Adirondacks and Finger Lakes pretty much by my desire, I am inclined this year to listen more to my husband's desires for a vacation which are to swim, relax, beach and stay closer to home. While he would love to fly out to an exotic island, he recognizes that we cannot afford such a venture at this time, nor can I commit to being too far from my elderly mother who is in my sole care.
My birthday is in January and I announced recently that I hated having a Winter birthday. As a kid, I never had a fun birthday party at the pool or beach. I had cold birthdays when we couldn't play outside and it was dark by dinnertime. As I got older, my birthday plans always seemed to compete with snow storms or the Superbowl. It sucked! While we mulled over a list of things we could do for my special day, my husband looked at me in all earnst and declared, "Your birthday really sucks, you know that? It's too damn cold to do anything."
Determined to make the best of it, I spent hours searching for a nice getaway, but the more I looked, the more I found wonderful places to stay when the days were longer and the weather was warmer. In fact, I found one B&B at a lovely historic home that I fell in love with in New Hope, PA, situated on 4 acres with gardens, and two lovely pools that I booked right away for Tom's July birthday, especially after reading all the glowing reviews on TripAdvisor and elsewhere.
At that moment, I decided to move my birthday to May so I could enjoy a warm weather birthday. Accordingly, I'm no longer a January birthday and I've switched dates with my mother. I told her, "Look at it this way, at least you know you'll likely make it to 82 if you celebrate it in January. And I get to stay just a tiny bit younger for almost five months. It's a win-win!" She agreed it was a good deal.
Thus,with my new birthdate set for May, Tom and I decided on a three day weekend at a lovely cottage in Cape May Point near the bayside. In addition, as part of a regular vacation week, we have booked a whole week in Cape May on the Atlantic side for September in order to enjoy both the mid-Spring and late Summer weather for hiking, nature walks and yes, even bird watching. Seriously, that's who we've become now. I bought a book about birds native to the area to watch for and I have the binoculars and camera ready. We've bcome that farty couple and we don't care. We have so little peace and quiet in our daily lives that running away even just an hour from home to watch birds migrate seems like paradise, catching the prime weather just before the deluge of traffic to the Jersey Shore begins and then again after it fades.
Both cottage rentals offer private balconies overlooking gardens where we can enjoy morning coffee before heading out to the parks for the day to explore the bayside nature reserves, enjoy a sunset, climb the lighthouse, or just relax on the beach before returning at day's end to enjoy a glass of wine overlooking the gardens again and taking in the fresh salt air. Our plans incorporate things we each like to do separately, along with things we both enjoy together, without spending crazy money on airfare or gas. The cottages each have small kitchens where we can prepare breakfast and lunch, saving hundreds of dollars on restaurant fare. While we enjoy eating out and I am reimbursed for restaurants I review for Metromix, we also enjoy cooking and dining privately and we know how to pack a cooler well. I'm already working on a grocery list and menus. I'm not normally so organized (or anal, if you will), but what the hell, I have all winter to think about it, why not? A vacation for us is being us anywhere but home.
The bad new is, we have to now wait 5 months for just the first excursion which makes this winter even more unbearable as the biting cold winds envelope our home and grey clouds gather, threatening to dump more snow on our now receded, dirty snow mounds remaining from the last storm of last week. I'm sure in that time, I will come up with more places to visit and things to do the first nice weekend come Spring. For now, however, we're braced for yet another snow storm and I'm thinking of a nice, hot pot of curried chicken soup simmering on the stove while my husband battles the elements outside once again.
Someday, I tell my husband, we'll live somewhere warm year round so we can just pick up and go anywhere and enjoy a weekend, even when it gets dark by dinnertime. And when we do, I'll go back to celebrating my birthday in January.
Oh, I mean, you know, it was great when he was all done shovelling and could hang out with me. That's really what I meant, I swear it.
So much so that I began thumbing through my guide books and doing internet research, picking out destinations for weekend getaways and vacations for the year ahead. Since the past year was spent hiking and driving through the Adirondacks and Finger Lakes pretty much by my desire, I am inclined this year to listen more to my husband's desires for a vacation which are to swim, relax, beach and stay closer to home. While he would love to fly out to an exotic island, he recognizes that we cannot afford such a venture at this time, nor can I commit to being too far from my elderly mother who is in my sole care.
My birthday is in January and I announced recently that I hated having a Winter birthday. As a kid, I never had a fun birthday party at the pool or beach. I had cold birthdays when we couldn't play outside and it was dark by dinnertime. As I got older, my birthday plans always seemed to compete with snow storms or the Superbowl. It sucked! While we mulled over a list of things we could do for my special day, my husband looked at me in all earnst and declared, "Your birthday really sucks, you know that? It's too damn cold to do anything."
Determined to make the best of it, I spent hours searching for a nice getaway, but the more I looked, the more I found wonderful places to stay when the days were longer and the weather was warmer. In fact, I found one B&B at a lovely historic home that I fell in love with in New Hope, PA, situated on 4 acres with gardens, and two lovely pools that I booked right away for Tom's July birthday, especially after reading all the glowing reviews on TripAdvisor and elsewhere.
At that moment, I decided to move my birthday to May so I could enjoy a warm weather birthday. Accordingly, I'm no longer a January birthday and I've switched dates with my mother. I told her, "Look at it this way, at least you know you'll likely make it to 82 if you celebrate it in January. And I get to stay just a tiny bit younger for almost five months. It's a win-win!" She agreed it was a good deal.
Thus,with my new birthdate set for May, Tom and I decided on a three day weekend at a lovely cottage in Cape May Point near the bayside. In addition, as part of a regular vacation week, we have booked a whole week in Cape May on the Atlantic side for September in order to enjoy both the mid-Spring and late Summer weather for hiking, nature walks and yes, even bird watching. Seriously, that's who we've become now. I bought a book about birds native to the area to watch for and I have the binoculars and camera ready. We've bcome that farty couple and we don't care. We have so little peace and quiet in our daily lives that running away even just an hour from home to watch birds migrate seems like paradise, catching the prime weather just before the deluge of traffic to the Jersey Shore begins and then again after it fades.
Both cottage rentals offer private balconies overlooking gardens where we can enjoy morning coffee before heading out to the parks for the day to explore the bayside nature reserves, enjoy a sunset, climb the lighthouse, or just relax on the beach before returning at day's end to enjoy a glass of wine overlooking the gardens again and taking in the fresh salt air. Our plans incorporate things we each like to do separately, along with things we both enjoy together, without spending crazy money on airfare or gas. The cottages each have small kitchens where we can prepare breakfast and lunch, saving hundreds of dollars on restaurant fare. While we enjoy eating out and I am reimbursed for restaurants I review for Metromix, we also enjoy cooking and dining privately and we know how to pack a cooler well. I'm already working on a grocery list and menus. I'm not normally so organized (or anal, if you will), but what the hell, I have all winter to think about it, why not? A vacation for us is being us anywhere but home.
The bad new is, we have to now wait 5 months for just the first excursion which makes this winter even more unbearable as the biting cold winds envelope our home and grey clouds gather, threatening to dump more snow on our now receded, dirty snow mounds remaining from the last storm of last week. I'm sure in that time, I will come up with more places to visit and things to do the first nice weekend come Spring. For now, however, we're braced for yet another snow storm and I'm thinking of a nice, hot pot of curried chicken soup simmering on the stove while my husband battles the elements outside once again.
Someday, I tell my husband, we'll live somewhere warm year round so we can just pick up and go anywhere and enjoy a weekend, even when it gets dark by dinnertime. And when we do, I'll go back to celebrating my birthday in January.
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