peevish mama

I have half an hour and a hot cup of Yogi Detox tea at my wrist. It’s snowing outside and last time I checked it was OCTOBER. As I made my kid-drop-off-supermarket rounds this morning I came to the realization that Mother Nature is one peevish mama.

Perhaps it a tad self-aggrandizing to think that I might have anything to do with the state of affairs outside our windows, but I write one little post last week about not being ready for winter and the next day – BAM – snow! Mother Nature’s all Hey yo, you stupid little bitch, I like how you thought it was safe to sign up for playground duty on October 12. I know you and your crisp fall day bullshit. Take that. Booof! Smell me now, fools! Kind of an I’ll give you something to cry about move, which, honestly, can only be described as deeply, deeply peevish. I know peevish and I can tell you, my friends, she’s gone super freak deep peeve.

Last year I wrote this about winter and it was a full month later. Admittedly, it was kind of an odd post with whispers of peyote usage – not sure what was going on with me and my fingers that day; you are free to draw whatever conclusions you will. My conclusion, retrospectively, is that winter sort of yawned into us last year. There was something inevitable and drawn out about its settling over our piece of the earth. Right? Lethargy? Bitterness? Resignation? Did you get that from the gray opera gloves? Hmm. Not sure I did either. But this year feels completely different. Mama Nature is feeling spry and peevish. Puckish and and meddlesome. She’s on a bit of a power trip, I think, but it comes from a good place – she’s feeling like a saucy little trickster, hence the white stuff. And when she’s feeling like that, what other choice do we have but to rub our hands together, bust out a little hip hop move and say, OK, baby, I’ll play.

Mama Nature, I’m IN, girl.

Time for playground duty. Now where the fuck are my boots?