Sunday, 1 November 2015
I would say welcome, but you and I both know that we share a historically tortured and labourious relationship, and offering you kindness and glad tidings would be tantamount to The Titanic offering hospitality to an iceberg.
November is a difficult month. It lacks the colour of October and it enjoys none of December's festivity, at least for us Canadians. It is saddled with shortened daylight, plunging temperatures, grey skies, and Arctic winds.
November is the month when I finally give up whatever pretence I ever had about fashion (which assuredly isn't much) and instead acquiesce to the comfort of utilitarian warmth. Can anybody honestly say that they would rather wear a poncho sweater and leggings instead of jeans and polar fleece? Those leather boots with the three-inch heels that looked so great in October are suddenly no match for slippery frosty mornings, and last year's Uggs are retrieved from the back of the closet.
November is when my morning grooming effort is defined by a personal mantra of "this will do". My hairbrush needs to be covered in a Bounce sheet in order to be effective, I purchase body lotion by the litre, and the sallowness of my pallor can only be matched in its apathy by the effort I make shaving my legs. (November is the month for the "only to the knee" shave and even then it doesn't occur nearly often enough.)
November is when all those wide-eyed idealistic notions about exercise tend to disappear into a haze of excuses most often defined by exhaustion, darkness, cold, or depression. The hauling of my carcass onto a treadmill requires almost as much exertion as the run itself. Still...I manage to persevere, only to be upended by the hormonal calling of comfort food in order to maintain whatever equilibrium is left.
Ah....November. You are the flaming dung pile that pollutes our calendar.
For the past five (yes I said 5!!) Novembers, I have found a way to navigate through this minefield of a month. National Blog Posting Month has offered me a lifeline, a creative umbilical cord to sanity. As odd as it may sound, the burst of imagination necessary in attempting to post every day is my personal flotation device. There is life in these posts and I jump at the chance to reverse the effects of Seasonal Affective Disorder. In these posts I find renewal and energy.
It isn't easy. At times it can be gruelling. Thirty posts in thirty days. The task is daunting (I apologize in advance for the clunkers that will inevitably come) and I am fundamentally lazy. As such, old favourites (mine perhaps, if not yours) such as Meatless Mondays, Almost Wordless Wednesdays, and Shabbat Music Breaks will return. No matter how I manage to fill these days, please know I will complete the task. The Type A in me wouldn't have it any other way.
You, dear readers (all 10 of you) can help. Feedback is my sustenance. Comments and "likes" are like crack to a blogger. Please do so...comment, I mean.... either here or on my Facebook page. (You can even "like" the page itself. I need a few new followers. Yes, I am that needy and starved for affection.) I would love to hear from you and it actually helps with the process. Nobody likes to write in a vacuum. I also wouldn't be averse to the odd share or two. If I can increase my readership by at least two, it's donuts for everybody.
So here we go...into that great abyss we call November.