It’s fire-in-the-backyard season. I’m not sure if this is legal in Brooklyn or not, but if the police come knocking on my door trying to confiscate my fire table, I’m going to tell them they should bust the crack dealer across the street first. You know?

These marshmallows are effing fantastic toasted.

We cleaned out the backyard so we could hang out in it and enjoy the fire table and have everything be neat.  I’ll plant grass eventually.  We don’t have a hose, so I have to wait for the rain.

I spent my whole weekend with Rob.  We slept, we ate out, we ate in, we did yardwork, we did stuff I’m not going to talk about, we watched TV and we played with the dogs.

It was a good weekend (except for the part about Bea Arthur dying, which is NOT OK.  Also, the swine flu is not ok, either.  But everything else was good.)

photo by Rob

The recent warm weather in Brooklyn has made me ravenous for spring. From November to the end of January, the bitter cold wind and four-thirty sunsets were making me so miserable, and keeping depression from crushing me to the floor was a constant struggle that I had to fight daily, tooth-and-nail, with happy thoughts, eating vegetables, and doing yoga. Tiny problems seemed huge and insurmountable, and encountering any small adversity made me want to run crying for my bed; sometimes I gave in, taking hours in the middle of the afternoon to sit with my head under a pillow, overwhelmed by the world outside of my room. I really don’t do well in the winter. This makes me feel like such a loser, by the way, but never more than when a friend or Rob would beg me to come out with them, and I would say no, not tonight, I’m staying in, because the thought of dealing with that cold out there was purely terrible.

Now it is finally warming up, and I feel so, so much better than I did. I still have to bundle up to go outside, but it isn’t such a horrible, bone-chilling experience any more, and for this, I am so grateful. To celebrate, I’m going out a great deal more, even if it’s just a walk to the store. No bare feet yet though; bare feet, of course, being the sign that the real nice weather has arrived.

I can’t wait to feel grass between my toes.