The slag ends of winter.
Spring is my favorite season, but March is one of my least favorite months.
Part of it is, March seems like it should be spring. Astronomical spring begins around March 21, meteorological spring begins March 1, the iconography of the month is filled with things green and clovery, so even though I've been on this planet for over 31 years, every winter I start counting down to March. And every February I suddenly remember, "Oh, right, March sucks." Maybe it's because I've lived so much of my life in places where spring really does begin in March -- North Carolina, New Mexico, Oklahoma. Maybe it's because for five or six of the ten years I've lived on Long Island, a major snowstorm was A Big Deal and February was the only truly wintry month. Whatever the reason, March seems like a letdown lately.
A couple days last week felt springlike, and there were even flowers in one person's yard yesterday, but that did nothing for my mood. Even though all but the biggest piles of snow have melted, the sky is the flat gloomy gray of winter, the streets are filthy with sand and broken macadam left over from the melt, and the trees will be clattery and comfortless until the end of April. And of course it's looking there could be a nor'easter of "historic" proportions on Tuesday or Wednesday, so I can't even be happy that it's almost April, and I can't even plan to hike on the mainland any time soon.
I need a vacation. Too bad there's no way we can afford one.
The last time we went on vacation was June 2010, and that was just a four-day weekend and a trip to Boston. Jen and I haven't been on an exotic getaway since July 2009, when we went to Ireland for nine days. My friend Maggie is going to Cuba with her husband in April, so that has me thinking of places like Belize and, well, Cuba, but even thinking about that probably puts us in more debt. I'd be excited to do something as simple as take Jonny up to Vermont in May or June, but I can't get my hopes up -- hotels are expensive, and we don't have the gear for family camping.
I miss being far more affluent than I am now. Not that we were ever more than lower middle class at any point, but compared to that, this upper lower class lifestyle is garbage.
Once debts get paid down, starting around mid-2016, we might have a little bit of extra money at hand. My fantasies are up there, waiting for me, in 2017. Jonny will be 7 then, old enough perhaps to be comfortable and well-behaved on an international flight. I'm thinking of newbie-friendly international destinations -- Britain, Iceland, Scandinavia, maybe even Ireland again. I want scenic drives and maybe a rail trip or two. I want a big hiking day all to myself, and smaller excursions with the kid. I want museums and interesting old cities and ruins. I want to stay in some funky, out of the way village for a couple days. And of course I want lots and lots of local food.
I never got to do the proverbial rail trip across Europe in my 20s, but I still want to give it a try. Maybe when Jonny is a teen, he and I could do it together. A month, maybe (as if we could ever afford that, but it's a fantasy, damn it), hopping through cities and small towns and national parks, hiking for a couple days at a time here and there. I wish I could do that right fricking now, but we have enough debt to last a lifetime as it is.
Part of it is, March seems like it should be spring. Astronomical spring begins around March 21, meteorological spring begins March 1, the iconography of the month is filled with things green and clovery, so even though I've been on this planet for over 31 years, every winter I start counting down to March. And every February I suddenly remember, "Oh, right, March sucks." Maybe it's because I've lived so much of my life in places where spring really does begin in March -- North Carolina, New Mexico, Oklahoma. Maybe it's because for five or six of the ten years I've lived on Long Island, a major snowstorm was A Big Deal and February was the only truly wintry month. Whatever the reason, March seems like a letdown lately.
A couple days last week felt springlike, and there were even flowers in one person's yard yesterday, but that did nothing for my mood. Even though all but the biggest piles of snow have melted, the sky is the flat gloomy gray of winter, the streets are filthy with sand and broken macadam left over from the melt, and the trees will be clattery and comfortless until the end of April. And of course it's looking there could be a nor'easter of "historic" proportions on Tuesday or Wednesday, so I can't even be happy that it's almost April, and I can't even plan to hike on the mainland any time soon.
I need a vacation. Too bad there's no way we can afford one.
The last time we went on vacation was June 2010, and that was just a four-day weekend and a trip to Boston. Jen and I haven't been on an exotic getaway since July 2009, when we went to Ireland for nine days. My friend Maggie is going to Cuba with her husband in April, so that has me thinking of places like Belize and, well, Cuba, but even thinking about that probably puts us in more debt. I'd be excited to do something as simple as take Jonny up to Vermont in May or June, but I can't get my hopes up -- hotels are expensive, and we don't have the gear for family camping.
I miss being far more affluent than I am now. Not that we were ever more than lower middle class at any point, but compared to that, this upper lower class lifestyle is garbage.
Once debts get paid down, starting around mid-2016, we might have a little bit of extra money at hand. My fantasies are up there, waiting for me, in 2017. Jonny will be 7 then, old enough perhaps to be comfortable and well-behaved on an international flight. I'm thinking of newbie-friendly international destinations -- Britain, Iceland, Scandinavia, maybe even Ireland again. I want scenic drives and maybe a rail trip or two. I want a big hiking day all to myself, and smaller excursions with the kid. I want museums and interesting old cities and ruins. I want to stay in some funky, out of the way village for a couple days. And of course I want lots and lots of local food.
I never got to do the proverbial rail trip across Europe in my 20s, but I still want to give it a try. Maybe when Jonny is a teen, he and I could do it together. A month, maybe (as if we could ever afford that, but it's a fantasy, damn it), hopping through cities and small towns and national parks, hiking for a couple days at a time here and there. I wish I could do that right fricking now, but we have enough debt to last a lifetime as it is.