So sorry to my pals in the Mid-West or on the East Coast, but here in SoCal, spring has sprung. (Or it’s about to…)
Even if the temperature doesn’t tell the whole truth, I can tell it’s here because I get that itch to clean out closets, organize things and I want to redecorate. I feel like going to Lowe’s and cruising through store and taking my time wandering around the garden center.
This year, however, I am sad about saying goodbye to one of my autumn craft projects. I made a chandelier out of manzanita from up at our cabin, using little candles and crystals. I love it and am very proud of how it turned out. (It looks like it did when I saw it in my head… I love it when that happens.)
Anyway, this thing is so big and unwieldy that there is nowhere to store it until next year. I am going to have to dismantle it and it will become firewood. So sad, but it just doesn’t say “Spring.” Oh well.
And? As if that didn’t bum me out enough, this is the time of year when I look at my pasty, untoned upper arms and think, ‘Holy Crap! It’s tank top time again!’ and panic. However, since I am long past the age when it is appropriate to wear short-shorts, the fact that my butt is down visiting my thighs is my little secret.
(And now, of course, yours.)