I hate January. I really, really do. We're only 12 days into the damn month. I took the Christmas tree down Saturday night, which I wasn't particularly eager to do, but the reorganization of the ornaments was driving me insane, so I relented and just took it down. Usually, I let it stay up longer, but not this year. The front room looks bare (though larger) and the kids keep asking where the tree went.
I have plenty to say, but I'm just really exhausted lately and am also having a difficult time picking out of my head the way that I want to express some stuff.
I am loving the most recent snow storm. Everything is still coated in white and it feels a bit like living in a Winter Wonderland. I'm also already looking ahead and planning the kids' birthday party...which isn't even until April 19th (since the Sunday after their birthday is Easter). It will actually be here before I know it. The theme is Thomas and Friends and I've already come up with the little rhyme for their invitations. I'm a dork. I know.
I'm deeply engrossed in the Twilight series and am on the last book. It's by far the best and most maturely written. I won't be sad to finish it, though (because, of course, I already know how it ends since I went to wikipedia and read the resolution...). (WARNING: That link goes directly to the entry for the Twilight series, so don't click it if you don't want to know what happens.) I've enjoyed reading the books, but am ready to move on to one of the twenty bazillion other books that I'd like to read.
I'm pissed off with management at the gym, but that's going to be a blog post in and of itself, so I won't do it just yet. I'm waiting to work with the new trainer (my 4th trainer in 8 months...part of the reason I'm pissed!) before I rant.
I made kickass french onion soup yesterday. I haven't made it in years and oh I forgot how great it is. Will definitely be making it again soon.
This is a very rambling way of saying that I'm still alive.
Come on, February!