Simple pleasures

It's been a chill-chilly winter in these parts, but we just had a miraculously warm and gorgeous weekend. Sunshine! Blue sky! Happy birds! Short sleeves! It was delightful.

Yet something was missing.

What is it about a warm, sunny day and a comfy porch chair that just begs for a nice, cold beer? I feel like a lush for saying it, but it's true. Short of sushi, I really haven't been jonesing for anything on the do-not list, including my fave adult bevies. But I found I was practically salivating from the thought and some sweat even broke out on my upper lip. I got ansy and peered over my shoulder to see if anyone noticed my momentary meltdown. And I was at my house. Alone. What a goose.

But there is nothing like the first beer. Any after that are just another beer, but that first one is like a taste of all the joy and bliss and happy things floating around in the universe. Don't get me wrong, the trade-off for abstaining is unquestionable and the resistance has been effortless, but oooh, what a sweet and simple pleasure. I laughed at myself for the reaction I had...my body physically responded to the idea of having a cold snack. I managed to enjoy the porch with an Italian soda instead, but I thought about that cold cold delicious hoppy beer the whole time.

As of late, I've started feeling a lot warmer than is typical for me. My fingers and toes, generally capable of paralyzing my husband with their subarctic touch, have been, well, normal. My face is flush more often and I struggle to determine tomorrow's wardrobe the night before, trying to come up with the right combination of layers so I won't pant like a dog or nap on my keyboard. Plenty of women have already made the "just you wait" comments when I've said that I'm more tolerant of heat than cold. I suppose their "I told you so" remarks will be next, because these warm flashes have taken on a different feeling. It's like my entire body is becoming a radiating sun, layered by one of those crazy silver blankets used in medical emergencies. In other words, I'm a walking sauna with a sweaty lip. I like not having the Jack Frost appendages, but the one-size-too-small-snowsuit sensation is interesting to say the least. My little ball of energy is radiating some major sunbeams in there.

As always, it really could be worse. I am fortunate beyond my comprehension. So I'll keep looking at the bright side of this chill-chilly winter...these overcast skies are not so bad since I am my own sun these days. Maybe that's what people mean when they say I'm "glowing." Ha. Hand me a cold beer in a few months while my sweet baby snoozes in the warm afternoon sun and I'll show you a real glow.