The bleak mid-winter

Hello, I have decided that winter sucks. Or at least THIS winter does, with its unrelenting gloom and damp. I know there are much colder temperatures and snow and whatnot elsewhere, but for reals y'all, I can only take so many days of grey skies and temps barely above freezing and cold cold cold rain/drizzle/mist before I start to go all Jack Torrance on your collective asses. I guess we had ONE sunny day this month because I took a photo of it but apart from that it's been SAD city up in here, and also ALLERGIES. Bleh.

I am combating the cabin fever with books, specifically the series known as A Song of Ice and Fire written by one George R. R. Martin. I'm determined to read the whole thing right through and have all five (so far) books finished by the time the TV show starts back up again in April. That might sound do-able unless you know that (a) I am the world's slowest reader and (b) each book is like 48,000 pages long. But whatever, it's not like I have any other hobbies.

(I've been assured by those who know that upon finishing the fifth book I'll suddenly feel compelled to write Mr. Martin VERY strongly worded letters explaining that he IS TOO my bitch and should write faster, perhaps mailing hardcopies of pages to me one by one as he knocks out the sixth book, but that's just crazy talk. I don't even know his mailing address.)

In other January news, the Ohio State Buckeyes football team gave my dad a National Championship for his birthday, so that was nice. Nutrition school is moving right along and getting more awesome by the day. I've started working out again, and meditating again, and taking photos again when I'm not reading. But I'm usually reading. Or napping. Or sneezing.

Yeah. That's about it. Wake me when the temperature is higher than my age. Or better yet, my dad's age.