Oh Spring... where art thou?

Yesterday I had to run a lot of errands, and spent a great deal of time in and out of the weather, which for the record, is officially "icky". It's an actual weather term, really, look it up. So in a fit of hopeful optimism, I checked the one month "forecast" online yesterday and was greeted with this:

It quickly shot that optimism all to hell pretty fast. I mean really, can we not have ONE day over 50? One. It's all I ask. I just want one of those days where I say "Oh yeah, I own some flip flops, where ARE THEY?" and look at them longingly, wear them around the house. Flirt with some t-shirts, wonder if I'm going to fit into my capris this year or not. (sure would be nice if they'd be too loose instead of too tight this year!)


But alas, that has not happened. I'm smacked in the face with the same forecast over and over. Cold. Snow. Gray. Welcome to Missouri you whining wench.

So instead of looking at the forecast, I mustered up every last little bit of hope that I had in my stomach - you know, right down there next to 23 feet of bowels - and I went into my external drive where I store all those pictures my family wishes I would delete.

Exactly one year ago, I recorded this:

This is not helping!!

So after I rolled around on the floor, kicking my feet and screaming for my mommy (which never worked back then either), I decided that I would look woefully into the future, and see what March held for us last year.

Exactly one month from now, I'm hoping my world will look something like this:

Although maybe not quite so crispy.

I can live with the concept that's in this photo. Dry grass, sweatshirt only, a flirt of a blue sky, a hint of some green grass popping in. Yes, I can live with that.

If I can keep myself from slitting my wrists in the next 30 days anyway.