2.10.2015

beating the February blues

for sale: thrifted box of blue glass Anthropologie knobs

When I was a child, my favorite color was yellow, probably because I wanted to be happier. Now it's turquoise for about the same reason—calm contentment—the color of the Mediterranean sea, of school-room earth globes, of Native American silver jewelry, and of my two blue thundereggs. That said, I usually surround myself with neutrals and select only punctuations of bright color like turquoise, fuchsia, or orange, not wanting to live inside a box of crayons. Nature, not a paint brush, can color my world seasonally with its trees, blossoms, water, sky, rocks, grasses, and flowers. So while dreaming of sun and summer, I offer more ways (mostly escapist distractions) to curl up, relax (or get busy), and kick the February blues:

  • watching Gillian Anderson in Netflix's series, The Fall while eating popcorn (to combat the serial-killer subject matter—because it's hard to feel scared or depressed while eating popcorn) 
  • reading Emily St. John Mandel's lauded, can't-put-it-down novel, Station 11
  • journaling (because most venting sessions and pity parties are better kept to oneself)
  • watching Frances McDormand in HBO's Olive Kitteridge (or just read Elizabeth Strout's Pulitzer Prize-winning book)
  • watching anything (or listening to audiobooks) while knitting—or crocheting or whittling or whatever—to feel doubly productive 
  • wondering whether the English language really does sound like snakes . . .
  • cooking on Sundays for the week ahead (e.g., prepping vegetables, making soup)
  • replacing or experimenting with different body care products, makeup, bedsheets, towels, spices, undergarments, or anything that could benefit from a good refresh (for me with skincare, this is anything but frivolous)
  • tuning up one's bike in preparation for spring rides
  • watching Essie Davis and crew in The Slap (esteemed Australian miniseries available on Netflix) 

But don't worry, February's a blink-and-you-miss-it kind of month—at least in the good, non-flu years, and this one's almost half over already. (How did that happen?)

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