Doin' the Limbo

It isn’t exactly winter but it is not quite spring either.  I am still wearing my basic black ensembles and am happily ensconced in the land between thin and not so thin.  Two months have passed since Christmas and any purpose of legitimate gift giving (and/or receiving) cannot be seen on the near horizon… unless you count St. Patrick’s Day or Easter.  In my opinion, the leprechaun and bunny have never really risen to the level to which Santa has made me accustomed – so, they don’t really count.  I have convinced my love muffin, though, that these “non” present-bearing holidays can be used for “practice runs” of showing his love and affection and baubles will be greatly appreciated.

My get up and go doesn’t want to move forward and I am flat out forgetting and unable to capably retrieve my cognizant recollection of what I did yesterday (this is in direct opposition to my younger years when “selective” lack of memory was my normal modus operandi and came in quite handy).

Cold weather, sipping hot chocolate by the fire place and meals from the crock pot don’t really help my motivation factor to get out of the house and beat the wintertime funk.  I have spent enough time cooped up in the house with my loved ones that “togetherness” has become a four letter word and they would love to see me anywhere but with them.

I have to say it – I am in limbo.  Not the dance from the West Indies, originally for men only, in which the dancer bends backward from the knees and moves with a shuffling step under a horizontal bar that is lowered after each successive pass.  Rather the comfortable place or state of oblivion to which persons or things are regarded as being relegated when cast aside, forgotten, past, or out of date.  More precisely, I appear to be caught in an intermediate, transitional, or midway state or place (thank you Dictionary.com for such words of truth and wisdom).

Although I wish I was on a beach somewhere, drinking foo-foo drinks and challenging my flexibility, the reality of lingering in this indeterminate state of being has crept up on me and is quite enjoying residing on my comfy sofa watching afternoon talk shows and debating the finer points of American Idol contestants.

Just as the few extra pounds left over from the holidays have found solace with me, so has the blissful state of indecisiveness and immobility.  It is my belief that a certain amount of “down-time” can actually be useful.  Unless it is a life or death situation or chocolate is not within an arm’s reach, throwing caution to the wind and deliberating is quite cathartic.

There is a method to this madness.  If you had to be ready and willing all the time, others would not appreciate your efforts as much as when your energies have been rejuvenated and the flurry of activity, quick response and superb wisdom you inherit from the self-induced dormant state shows the true you.  Their expectations would become rote, predictable and boring… who needs that?

What the heck, I am ready to live dangerously and get showered and dressed before 10AM.  I know, it seems crazy and impetuous and I might even shave my legs, put on makeup and plan a really nice dinner for my family.  They will never see that coming… and won’t they be pleasantly surprised?  Bring on spring!

Cynthia A. McClelland, curious observer of the obvious with interpretations of the oddities of daily life.  Mother, wife and lover of the furry, resides in the north Lake Tahoe area.

Cynthia A. McClelland © 2003-