oof.

Posted: February 22, 2019 by Rachel

I’m not the least bit ashamed to say I’ve been struggling a bit lately. February. Dark, cold, tiring February. I’m not a fan. I’m not the biggest fan of winter overall, actually. One of the best things I ever did was leave Canada for Las Vegas eight years ago. The winters here are much more mild and forgiving, though I feel strange writing this as we come off of two days of heavy (for us) snowfall. You heard me right; I said snow. That photo was taken looking out my front window.

So, February has kind of been kicking my butt. Oof. I feel perpetually tired (I’m talking exhausted once 4pm hits) and my inspiration levels have been steadily dropping. As I’m in the thick of writing my new book (just a little shy of 30k words at the moment) I worry about letting this melancholy get any worse. I’m worried my book will go down the drain.

I know I’m not the only one having these feelings–they’re all over social media and in my inbox and ears too. February is hard on so many of us. I wish I could snap my fingers and make it Spring. Just give me the light. Give me waking up to a bright room. Give me iced coffee and pink lemonade.

Sometimes cooking some of my favorite recipes helps, like this apricot and cheddar chicken melt that Dom can’t get enough of, or this honey sriracha sesame chicken with cauliflower. But, oof, my cooking has suffered too. The other night I made breakfast for dinner: hash browns, turkey bacon and eggs all mixed together. I added salsa verde to mine and devoured it. The boys loved it too. DJ asked for it the next night, and you know what? I made it again.

All of this has just been a long-winded way of saying I’m over you, February. Of course, before I know it it will be the dead of the summer and I’ll be complaining about how much I’m sweating and the very particular way the Las Vegas sun has of feeling as though it’s burning into your skin. But that’s a story for another day.