Tag: Spring

March. Hare.

“Spring is nature’s way of saying, ‘Let’s party!'”
~Robin Williams

After months of self-imposed austerity, the fashion gods decided to toss temptation my way…and I threw up my hands in defeat.

In my defense, it wasn’t a fair fight!  J. Crew sent me one of their promo cards for 20% off and Gap Inc. did their 30%-off-and-5%-goes-to-charity sale, so what was I to do?  J. needed new jeans and khaki trousers, and I needed a couple of summer work shirts.  So Saturday I headed into the City and indulged before returning home and atoning by doing massive piles of laundry and watching the NCAA tournament.

Of course, this faint whiff has revved my appetite and I can’t help noticing that cute new clothes are popping up like daisies.  And to make it worse, the weather has started feeling like Spring too – prompting the desire for vivid skirts, glaring cardigans, and cute sandals.

Calm down, C.! You know your winter-fogged brain can't handle this overload!

Spring always makes me go a little crazy, and not just with clothes.  I want to rip anything I own in black, navy, or gray to shreds because I’m sick of neutral and sensible.  I want to eat tons of vegetables and fruit in chilled pastas and smoothies and never see a pot roast again.  Hearing birds after months of silence makes me giddy (starlings and sparrows roost in our building’s roof, J. hates waking up to them, but I love it).  Seeing the grass slowly, teasingly turn green thrills me.  And, freak that I am, Daylight Savings Time makes me happy.  I’m no longer driving home in the dark – which makes me want to curl up on the couch under a blanket, snack on junk food, and refuse to make dinner.  Instead I get home with at least an hour of light, which makes laundry feel doable as opposed to a drudgery.

Autumn is still my favorite season, but Spring always wakes me up and I love it when it comes.

Thoughts, From Abroad (1845)

Oh, to be in England
Now that April’s there,
And whoever wakes in England
Sees, some morning, unaware,
That the lowest boughs and the brushwood sheaf
Round the elm-tree bole are in tiny leaf,
While the chaffinch sings on the orchard bough
In England – now!
– Robert Browning

View from campus. Blech.

I am royally sick of living in the American West!  Just when I figure out what on earth the weather is doing, WHOMP!  We get slapped with a snow storm, dust and pollution atmospheric covering, heat wave, cold front, or some really horrid combination of the four.  I am so tired of pulling out sweaters and coats after packing them away (again).  I am thoroughly over days and days of climbing temperatures, only to wake up having to scrape snow off the car. 

Living in the West seems to equal extremes.  It’s either blazing hot or as cold as Dante’s hell.  There is very little in between and the transitional seasons are completely lost in the shuffle (which is a great tragedy, in my opinion, as Spring is so refreshing and necessary and Fall is a radiant symphony of beauty). 

Someday I will live in a place where each season takes up as close to a full quarter of a year as possible.  And if it’s England, where it’s still green even in the winter in spite of snow, so much the better.  I am SO ready for GREEN again…

The Downside

“Darling, the legs aren’t so beautiful, I just know what to do with them.”
– Marlene Dietrich

Last week in an effort to hurry Spring along by dressing the part (which worked swimmingly, by the way!) I broke out this pretty thing I scored on Ebay:












Darling, no? 

The problem?  As J. and I were walking to the car for lunch, I happened to glance down and see this:

Pictured: artist's rendering of my legs.


“Why did you let me outside looking like this?!” I demanded.
“You’re a quarter Slovak, I have no idea why you have albino legs,” he retorted.