I have returned from a glorious week of sunshine, booze and buffets and am a more benevolent person as a result. Things were getting a little frightening leading up to my departure. Depleted of sunshine for too long, I had a dark soul and a bleak bleak heart. It is amazing what a little infusion of sunshine will do. It has been blustery and rainy for a couple of days since my return and I haven’t been bothered in the slightest.

Beach vacations are glorious. There was candy coloured brightness everywhere, on the clothes, the flowers and inflatable water toys. The sounds were delightful - the blaring mariachi music, the clickity clack of my flip flops, a deranged rooster who would start crowing incessantly at 3 in the morning, the hypnotic crash of the surf. I was mesmerized by the pelicans that flew like a fleet of freaky pterodactyls. I was charmed by the beach dogs who were gentle and wild at the same time, leaning against my leg for a nice rub behind the ears but looking like they could chew my arm off at any moment.

I loved uninterrupted time with The Sweetie. We invented a new game where he would lift me up in the water and pretend to throw me to the ocean as an offering.

I fell into a rhythm of sleeping when I was sleepy, moving when I felt like moving, and eating when I was hungry which turned out to be all the time. The Sweetie was trying to find out the Spanish word for vacuum as he was sure that that was the waiters’ nickname for me every time I neared the buffet. By mid-week I was using my ever increasing belly as a cup holder and book-rest as it spilled out over my bathing suit.

I came home resembling a barrel, all bloated and boozy. My clothes were straining and tight by the end of the week. I love that I don’t care right now. I am sun kissed, fat and jolly and I have survived another winter.

(Found here, thanks to the very droll Drollgirl who led me there.)

The days are becoming significantly longer, it is less than two weeks before the clocks go forward and less than three weeks before spring officially arrives. All things considered it has been quite a tolerable winter.

Pah! I am taking a beach vacation anyway. I tried to fight the good fight this year, spending a lot of time in front of my lightbox and resolving to be stoic, giving the credit card a much needed break. Who have I been fooling? I need the sun like I need air, water and chocolate. I am the furthest thing from a brave little soldier. I am not brave at all. I have been a monster and for the health and welfare of all, I am carting myself away from this frozen grey tundra and embracing a week of sun, surf and margaritas.

The Sweetie will be spared for a week and will not have to witness me clearing my sinuses with my neti pot on a nightly basis. I will not give him the death stare or burst into inexplicable tears. I won’t wear flannel pajamas for a week, or wear my bathrobe over my clothes or sleep with the hot water bottle. I won’t have fantasies about snapping people’s limbs in half. I will be a salsa-eating benevolent version of myself rather than the spaghetti sandwich eating curmudgeon I have become over the past few months. Surely that is a worthy cause for racking up the credit card bill.

Here then are my top choices for temporarily melting a frozen winter-hating heart:

1. Almost anything involving Will Ferrell, especially Anchorman. I love love love Will Ferrell. He is shameless and I love him for that. I am proud to let my low brow humour flag fly.

2. Zoolander- Cheap laughs of the immature variety. (See Will Ferrell above.)

3. This is Spinal Tap, a classic.

4. Anything by Wes Anderson for the soundtracks alone. Where else can I hear Portuguese versions of David Bowie songs.

5. An Officer and a Gentleman - because a young Richard Gere can warm the loins and I never get tired of the final scene when he whisks Debra Winger away from her boring factory job and she gets to wear his hat. Way to go Paula!

6. Now Voyager with Betty Davis. I love how she is a frumpy downtrodden old maid with unkempt eyebrows, has a breakdown, gets a make over at the sanatorium and comes back with groomed brows, goes on a cruise and finds forbidden and tragic love. Bette Davis is the best.

7. Stella Dallas with Barbara Stanwick, another feisty dame who has my utmost love and respect. Sometimes despite everything you have to give in and cry your eyes out and this heart breaker is guaranteed to deliver.

8. Team America, because I am a fourteen year old boy trapped in a woman’s body.

9. Flight of the Conchords. Not a movie, but a brilliant TV show, guaranteed to delight with its giddy goofiness.

10. Dr. Zhivago, because I could swim in Omar Sharif’s liquidy eyes forever and regardless of how cold and bleak the winter gets it’ll never look as cold and bleak as Russia during the Bolshevik revolution.

My yogi friend is the healthiest girl I know. She doesn’t drink, doesn’t smoke, she’s a vegan and lover of all things organic and herbal. She loves vegetables. In fact, she craves vegetables.

When visiting my friend she has been known to exclaim, “Hey! Do you want a sundae? I can fix us a sundae!” I was excited the first time she offered until I discovered that her version of a sundae involves frozen soy yogurt, dried fruit, and if she is feeling really decadent, a few carob chips.

Because life is completely random and strange, my healthiest friend has been diagnosed with breast cancer. The night before her lumpectomy we went for a platter of stir fried vegetables, bok choy and fried rice determined to eat as much and as late into the night as possible, since she wasn’t allowed to eat after midnight. She is fighting nausea from her chemo treatments with acupuncture and Chinese herbs. She has found the cutest cloche hats with felted flowers to keep her very well shaped head warm until her hair grows back. She is a force to be reckoned with and will kick breast cancer in the ass with her tiny fierce yogi feet.

To help her through the sucky times I have been searching for vegan healthy snacks I can make for her. I found a recipe for no-bake chocolate chip “cookies”. Where is the butter? And copious amounts of sugar? Where are the chocolate chips for that matter? Basically they are healthy ingredients squished together with a bit of honey. In spite of myself I had to admit that they weren’t that bad. Even The Sweetie conceded they’d taste like cookies if you hadn’t had a real cookie in a long long time.

On behalf of my dear yogi friend I will overcome my healthy food phobia and mix these babies up whenever she craves them. I will try to refrain from making snide comments about the carob chips. I may even offer to make her a “sundae”.

No Bake Chocolate Chip Cookies

(from Clean Eating Magazine-yes, such a magazine actually exists. I am definitely more of the dirty eating variety myself)

Throw 1 1/4 cup raisins and 1/2 cup dates in the food processor and chop into small pieces. Add 2 cups oats, 4 tbsp honey or agave (because everybody has agave kicking around their kitchen), 2 tsp cinnamon and a pinch of salt. Mix that up in the food processor, then put it in a bowl and add 1/2 cup carob chips. Roll this healthy mash into a ball, smush a little and chill so that it is firmer. Presto, “cookies”…

I found this amazing spoof of The Shining. I remember being traumatized by the movie when I first saw it. I will never look at hotel hallways and Big Wheels in the same way again. I am someone who should never watch scary movies because I can never fully shake them. It is comforting, then, to see a pastoral, warm and fuzzy spin on the horror that was Jack Nicholson in The Shining. If only there were a way to make formulaic romantic comedies more palatable and less horrifying.

Bread shoes, where have you been all my life? At long last my winter fantasies of being enveloped in a carbohydrate cocoon are being realized.

Between productive hours spent staring at the wall and wondering who I can pick a fight with I discovered yummychummy, a lovely blog. This woman is my new hero. She found bread shoes and she takes beautiful photographs of dapper smiling dogs. It has briefly thawed my frozen winter heart.

Years ago when my parents had a house with a garden my mother noticed a groundhog at the bottom of their property. He would appear at least once a day and systematically eat his way through some of her prized plants. He was a portly fellow with a distinctive waddle and provided my mom with hours of delight. When she realized that he seemed to have a particular fondness for her ajuga plants she made sure to plant more, lest he go hungry.

The betrayal of Wiarton Willie stings a lot on this Groundhog Day. Obviously a little kindness towards one of their brethren means nothing to these little ingrates. Just how long do they think they can get away with dashing the hopes of winter weary humans? Just because they have very squeezable looking noses and round cuddly bodies shouldn’t give them license to crawl out of their burrows and declare that winter is going to stick around for another six weeks. We expect winter to be long but do they have to confirm it with such glee? And I know they’re gleeful. I can see it on their smug little faces when they waddle back into their burrows, smirking at their job well done. Horrid hairy beasts. To think that my mom planted extra delicacies for one of their kindred. They should be ashamed of themselves.

Alas, I have started to notice a rising note of hysteria in my voice as I merrily chirp that I am okay and that winter is half over. My words ring hollow and false. I hear the manic undertones and I am sure there is a giant thought bubble looming over my head with nothing in it but a black cloud. I yearn to hide from the world until spring, shuffling in my bathrobe with kleenex boxes on my feet. I am starting to feel broken.

I believe that when you are down a pick me up is in order, especially in the winter. I am determined to treat myself to all things happy until spring arrives. Good-bye shopping hiatus and resolutions to be less self indulgent.

First order of business, I treated myself to an adorable fox locket I found on Lanyapi on Etsy. It will go perfectly with my fox bracelet from Fey Handmade, although I don’t think I will wear them together and be all fox matchy matchy. It would be too much, akin to the unfortunate look of sporting jeans with a jean jacket so that it looks like you are wearing a denim suit.

I also happily picked up Neil Diamond’s greatest hits at the library. If a sweaty guy with sideburns and silky shirts singing his heart out doesn’t lift my spirits, even temporarily, I need to book a beach vacation immediately.

And speaking of denim suits here is my sure thing for dumb laughs, Will Ferrell doing a Neil Diamond impersonation.

The no sugar resolution is also off. The temperature has dropped and so has my resolve. I have visions of being in a canoe made of bread paddling through swirling eddies of hot fudge. There will be a bake-off this weekend and I will not be stopped. Sugar, and lots of it, is the answer. The same goes for bread and all things carb related. There will be croissants in my hands. Soon.

Winter may get the best of me yet. There are still 50 days left until spring officially arrives, then another couple of months until it really feels warm and pastoral, but I will fight the good fight, one giant brownie, trinket, and warbling singalong at a time.

My powerhouse uber organizer friend of Nathalie-Roze and Co. is organizing a fund raising rummage and bake sale to raise money for Haiti relief. It has motivated me to continue with my Peter Walsh de-cluttering efforts in order to find items I can donate. I have also offered to bake for the cause. Despite my vows to avoid sugar I had to sample my cookie dough… a few times… for quality control.

What I can’t do with my cheque book, I can do with my time and a small contribution. In the face of so much suffering it is easy to feel completely ineffectual and helpless. My cookies and my clutter won’t change the world, but together, small acts can add up to something significant.