Of course, “we” is just me, and being “back” just means that I finally, sort of, shook off the 31-day long-haul decent into the wintry mind-fuck that is January in Michigan. During a pandemic. With nowhere to go and no one to see, especially the sun and all of its cockle-warming, mental zoophilic luminance1.
February tried to bend me over a depressive barrel right out of the gate with some family issues that are out of my control, but a scheduled appointment with the O.G. Mindbender helped a ton. She helped get me back on the path to fixing my brain that has been fucked in recent years by the unfortunate return of some very dark emotions I hadn’t felt since adolescence (oh, the halcyon days when it was completely acceptable to tell a teenager battling obesity, depression, loneliness, bullying, classroom failures, family chaos, and unfamiliar emotions to “stop being lazy, lose weight and buck up.”). I could go on and on, but I don’t trust you not to violate the blogger-reader confidentiality agreement that you agreed to upon your arrival.
I have made the best half-hearted attempts at a return to being Fat-But-Fit™ by spending time on the Dreadmill doing some lumbering. By April, I plan to be a mashup of Kevin James and Usain Bolt. Look out, world!
As I enjoy our second day in a row of February sunshine, I look to the rest of the week and see that a few inches of snow are in the forecast2. I’m hoping fresh snow will make the trails less icy and ripe for some snowshoe stomping and picture takin’.
Note: The intro photo was taken with iPhone in the Meijer parking lot. Love an old farm truck and love some found typography even more. Of course, Michigan being Michigan, this is probably some covert message between right-wing militia members, and I’m in a parking lot taking photos of it like some sort of idiot.
- For the record, in my fuzzy navel of mid-Michigan, the sun was out for just 3 days in January. That means if you factor in the late sunrise and the early sunset, we saw the sun less than 24 hours in January, that’s nearly 97% of the month under dark gray skies or complete darkness. That’s some real “rope to the attic” type shit for even the most stable of folks.
- Oddly enough, I told wifey I had three inches in her forecast, and she called me an asshole.