|Rural Iowa in January. |
The sky may be blue, but that doesn't mean you can't still get the blues.
Between the post-Newtown letdown after our manic pie-making/pie-sharing cross-country journey, the bitter cold Iowa weather, the isolation of winter and my inability to get my ass moving on my next book, all this is conspiring to create a serious case of the January blues. (Thank you, Gayle H., for giving a name to my malaise.) I’ve experienced this syndrome in winters past and I know the cure. It’s called “a tropical vacation.” There is nothing like a dose of heat, sun penetrating bare skin, and swimming in warm ocean water to revive the spirit and invigorate the soul. I immediately began dreaming of how I might get my S.A.D. self to the Caribbean.
But instead of searching for southbound flights, I spent the evening scrolling through Facebook where I noticed that a friend of mine had “liked” the page for India Hicks. I’ve heard of India Hicks, but all I really knew was she had been a bridesmaid in Princess Diana’s wedding, that she was a model or designer or something, and that she lived in the Bahamas. The Bahamas…ohhhhh. My curiosity piqued, I clicked on Hicks’ FB page, kept clicking on links, and clicking on photos, and the next thing I knew I spent an hour immersed in her website.
|Come on, don't tell me this picture doesn't make you just a tiny bit jealous.|
My dad told me years ago, “The surest path to unhappiness is to compare yourself to other people.”
|My path. Instead of bare feet on a pink sand beach I |
leave boot prints on my snow-covered sidewalk. Fun times.
So, uh, yeah. India Hicks wins.
I swore to myself that I wouldn’t obsess over India Hicks anymore, I wouldn’t compare myself to her or anyone else, and that I would be grateful for exactly who I am and what I have. And then I went to bed.
I went back inside the house, my cheeks still burning as they thawed from the near-frostbite, and immediately looked up airline tickets to the Bahamas.
The prices were astronomical, so I looked up light therapy lamps. And since those were priced in the triple digits I ran a very hot bath. And now, since I can’t seem to conjure up any way around this long winter but to muscle through it, I will turn up the heat in the house and get back to work on that new book proposal. And occasionally I will look at pictures of India Hicks to remind myself that instead of being envious I just need to plan in advance for next January.