When they ask me, cautiously, how I'm adjusting, I surprise them and myself by saying that I love it here in New England. Certainly, going back to work has been good for my psyche. As a naturally high strung person, I need a focus for my neurotic tendencies, and the Merry Husband is relieved that my target is no longer him. Although I am thankful that I was able to take almost six months off from work, I feel more productive, energetic, and, well frankly, a lot happier now that I have a job. Remember Dicky Fox from Jerry Meguire?
Ah, Sweet Purpose, how I've missed you.
But I didn't expect to like winter. I thought I'd be miserable and counting the dark days until spring. Instead, when I wake up to fresh snow covering everything in sight, I feel like Elsa from Frozen.
The Merry Husband has been trying to temper my expectations. He says that March will be difficult. Right now, though, I'm enjoying the novelty of it all.
Unlike Ice Queen Elsa, I have to admit, the cold bothers me a little bit. Fortunately, these New Englanders are a tough breed and have developed helpful coping mechanisms.
1. Legal Sea Foods' Clam Chowder. If I could mainline it, I would.
|Via Legal Sea Foods|
2. 10" Shearling-Lined Bean Boots. Keeps even my Raynaud's disease-ridden toes toasty warm.
4. Alcohol. Last weekend, the Merry Husband and I stopped in for lunch at the Century House in Peabody while we were waiting for an oil change on my car. At 1:00 in the afternoon, the bar was absolutely packed. I asked the waitress if there was a special game or other event going on. No, she said. Every Saturday, people rushed in as soon as the bar opened at 11:00 in the morning to claim their seats for the rest of the day. They watched whatever was on (that day, it was Bruins hockey), played Keno, and socialized.
5. Friends. New Englanders have a reputation for gruffness. Think Bill Belichick in his cut-off hoodie.
They all seem to have been here since the Mayflower. They give directions by referencing defunct businesses. ("Turn right where that Dunkin' Donuts used to be ten years ago.") They drive with one hand permanently positioned over the horn. But once they decide that you're alright, never will you find more loyal friends. Case in point, our 72-year-old neighbor, a former highway patrolman, who insists on checking up on us at least once a week, even if that means braving his icy driveway with his cane. With friends like this, spring can wait.