March madness

I'm actually talking about a "madness" not licensed by the NCAA and CBS (although I'll be filling out my brackets soon enough). I'm just mad that spring hasn't quite sprung; that in addition to feeding the little bastards all winter (the birds get the crumbs), I now have a squirrel condo in the soffit of my house; that I can't switch fast enough between G and C; and that I have to wear winter shoes and socks when I want to wear sandals. Well, at least March isn't February, which totally sucked.

So, here are the silver linings. First, I can now see all of my tulips and daffodils peeking above ground, and assorted other spring bulbs, which will be nice little surprises because I can't quite remember what I planted -- or where the squirrels moved them to (are you sensing a theme?).

Second, I've been reading a book by the wonderful Scott Weidensaul -- Return to Wild America -- which is beautiful and educational and makes my chest hurt because so much of it documents the terrible destruction we've visited upon the land and its inhabitants. When I read about the wholesale slaughters of wild creatures and landscapes that have been carried out over our history of "improving" this country, the surly, dark spirit lurking in me just wants to declare that we are going to get exactly what we deserve. (As many times as I think of Thomas Hobbes, I should really go ahead and read Leviathan. But would that improve my mood? I expect the sound bite is out of context--life is nasty, brutish, short--and that he actually believed in human advancement and a brighter future.) That was a long and tenuously connected parenthesis. I think there's an even longer Cormac McCarthy parenthesis out there, but I 'm not going to try it; I could sprain something. Also, all my silver linings seem to have black linings. But never mind.

Third, I am the happy owner of tickets to see Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova -- AND -- Elvis Costello and the Imposters both in May! That is in addition to Derby festivities. And there will also be baseball games, and all the players will look like normal, lanky fellows, except for the tubby pitchers, because Roger Clemens is testifying before Congress, and so they've had the bejesus (and androstenediol) scared out of them.

Fourth silver lining is that even though I stink now, I'm better at playing the guitar than I was in October.

Number five: I'm going to go buy some strappy sandals, goddammit. Just watch me.

Number six: I have an awesome husband who puts up with my finicky salad-eating ways.