Changing Seasons

I was going to start out by explaining that if I've been a little absent lately, it's because I've been getting random "Error 503 - Service not available" messages from Blogger.

But that would be only partly true.

The past few days I've been struck down, in a sense.  Low energy.  As far as I can tell, it got really bad last Saturday, when I dragged myself out of bed before daybreak to accompany Miss Chef and two friends into uptown Charlotte.  They were all running the Hog Jog, a 5k associated with the ever-changing Blues & BBQ festival held every year.  I was not running; I was merely going along for moral support, and to provide pockets.  Someone's gotta carry the car keys, cash and ID.

Off topic: Yes, Miss Chef ran her first 5k! I'm so very proud of her!

(Truth be told, that was actually her second 5k, as Chef Adam had somehow talked her into running one on Labor Day.  But that only served as a baseline for Miss Chef to get a slightly better time on Saturday.)

Notwithstanding the fact that, while Miss Chef puffed down and up some respectable hills, I strolled a few blocks over to wait about 20 minutes near the finish line, jogging only the last tenth of a mile with her; and the fact that Miss Chef had to go to work that afternoon...that morning wore me out!

And ever since, I've been dragging around like a sick toddler's blankie.

However, I don't think it was the early morning wake-up call that started my dragginess, since it was the same time I get up for work every day.  Or, rather, it wasn't that particular early morning.  The problem is, for the past several weeks I've been getting up before the sun.  And I HATE that.  It brings back unhappy memories.

As a teenager, I had to get up at 5:30 in the morning, in our old, drafty and very cold farmhouse, in order to be showered and at the bottom of the driveway for the bus that pulled up at exactly 6:40.  By my junior year in high school, Big Brother had gone to college, and I was on my own.  While Mom and Dad snoozed downstairs, and the dog stayed snuggled comfortably on my still-warm comforter, I had to brave the cold bathroom floor and the dash from the shower to my towel.

Brrrr.

But what I really remember is the dark, and feeling that I was the only living thing awake in the world.  Because of the age of the house, very few rooms had light switches.  So once I got downstairs, I had to walk through the living room, the dining room and into the kitchen before I could flip on a light.  Even then I felt like I was standing in an oasis of dim yellow, surrounded by a universe of still darkness. 

And of course, standing alone at the bottom of the driveway in the pre-dawn starlight, feeling the boogers freeze inside my nose, didn't make me feel any more positive about my morning routine.

To this day, I dread getting up in the dark.  And once again, since Miss Chef sleeps later than I do, I find myself creeping through a dark room to the next light switch.  And it's only slightly easier.  I have less distance to walk, and Rosie does eventually get up with me, if only to ensure she gets breakfast on time.  Most of all, I don't have the wearying anticipation of huge snowfalls and week-long cold snaps below zero; in fact I now look forward to a drop in temperature (though it's still 90 degrees at the front door by the time I get home).

I wasn't sure where I was going with this when I started writing it, and I'm still not sure.  I hardly ever talk politics here, but I have to say, when Obama was elected on a platform of hope and change, I guess I was subconsciously thinking part of the change would be to return the dates of Daylight Savings Time back to where they used to be.

'Cause I sure am ready to fall back already!

The picture is not from my childhood home.  It's a barn here in Charlotte where we rented a house when we first moved to NC; I think it was built in the 30s.  Today it stores Stuff, and houses several cats.