Airplanes

Thomas and I (and Apollo and Tesla) are eagerly awaiting Bob's arrival home today. It's been a long three weeks.

As I type, his airplane just crossed the Georgia/Tennessee border. How do I know this? I like to watch him fly. Whenever he is in the air, I go to Flight View's website, pop in his flight number and watch him.

Today I know that his flight is 46 minutes late already, so I will adjust my dinner preparations. Watching makes it kind of fun for Thomas and I.

Flight View Live opens in a separate screen, so I can surf (if we're not doing school, that is) and watch without refreshing all the time.

Kind of fun, kind of cool, and there's no truth to a watched pot never boils, because we can see progress. His plane is nearing Nashville, as I close.

2:30 am

I awoke. I'm sick. Again.

Sitting here sipping on a Sunkist pop, because we're out of Sierra Mist, trying to settle my tummy, I'm in deep thought.

I hate January. There, I said it. It's depressing. And cold. The only thing to look forward to is February, where the temps will rise, slightly.

I hate February. The temps are usually warmer, not below zero, but Mother Nature likes to laugh at us and slap us with some very cold days anyway. (And my heart goes out to those who experienced the bad storms and tornadoes -- Mother Nature is cruel!)

Since moving to Minnesota a decade ago, I have developed a seasonal depression. It hits in January and February. I have severe cabin fever. I'm tired, I'm cranky, I'm depressed -- mildly -- and just crawling out of my skin.

Today was a bad day. We only got about half of the stuff on our school list done. Watership Down was on TV again and Thomas requested that he be allowed to watch, so I over-enthusiastically agreed. Why? So I could sleep on the couch. And sleep I did. Then I awoke, grumpy, mad at the world.

Part of my problem this February is I am sick to death of my husband being out of town. He was gone in November. He was gone two weeks in December. He was gone a week in January, home a week, and then gone again. This time he's been gone three weeks. Three L~O~N~G weeks.

It's hard being a single parent. It's hard not having a moment to myself. It's hard when there are two puppies in the house.

Anyway, after Watership Down was over, Thomas quickly figured out I wasn't getting off the couch any time soon, so he turned it to Oprah and curled up with a book. Oprah actually got me out of my funk a little because the topic was The Secret which I have long believed in before the book came out. I watched the show with interest, got up and took a hot shower, then prepared supper.

I don't know how to overcome the winter blues. I've tried full-spectrum lights. I've tried getting outdoors more. I've half-heartedly attempted exercise. Nothing works except for spring to arrive. I do know that I get in bad moods and my thoughts get very negative very quickly. So at least I can control that.

So here I sit. January 6 I was sicker "than a dog" in Rochester, Minnesota. I was sick that entire week. Thomas got sick not long after, then I got sick again. We both seemed to be on the mend, now here I am sick again.

I think my body is rebelling. I think I need rest. I think tomorrow is supposed to be a day where we snuggle on the couch and read great books and have great discussions.

Friday Bob comes home. I know I'll feel better when he's back. After 18 1/2 years of marriage, I find I miss him more when he's gone now than I did even a few years ago. He's my rock. Even though it's always an adjustment when he gets home.

I'd go back to bed, but I know I can't sleep. So I'll continue to sip my Sunkist, wishing it were a Sierra Mist, and feeling glad that the Imodium is kicking in.

Calgon, take me away.