hibernation

i'm a bear in reverse.

during the winter, i'm out in force--give me some crunchy snow, a pair of good boots, and a chill wind, and i'm your gal.

anything over 65 degrees, or 70% humidity--and i hibernate.

when it gets too warm i just don't want to leave the house. AC creates a bubble of comfort, in which i curl and relax. it's my own personal den.

for the past week i've been dreading those calls--"do you want to picnic/go for a walk/barbeque?"

blech.

a week ago monday i ventured out to my aunt's house, for a memorial day lunch. of course in minnesota nothing lasts for under two hours--it's all a marathon. the hello period is short...but the good-bye sequence is EPIC. i drove up with my sister and brother in law, waded through the heat into the backyard, and tried to imagine that i wasn't sweating.

of course my sister said she only wanted to be there for a few hours. since we got there at 1 i had high hopes we'd be on the road at 3.

nope. due to the nature of the gathering--familial--there's this unspoken agreement that you'll do certain things while visiting. the following is a guideline, but for the most part, breaking the chain is like breaking some ritual, at which point the powers that be will crash sun into moon and the sky will darken and the earth will quake...blah, blah, blah.

anyway, here's my take on it:

1. arrive 10-20 minutes late, staggering under a salad and/or dessert that you were told not to bring.
2. eat about an hour after the host/hostess originally indicated, listening to your uncle tell off-color jokes about obese women and harpoons.
3. stay and visit--which consists of either playing scrabble, in my family, or cards, or some yard game like bocce ball or croquet.
4. play again, as my sister's a poor loser and cannot fathom how she could have lost the first time.
5. announce that it's about time for you to be heading out.
6. try to beg out of dessert but get stuck in a lemon meringue pie. yuuuuummmm.
7. have ONE MORE cup of coffee and/or iced tea.
8. hug everyone in the room, put on your shoes, and realize that your purse is AWOL.
9. search through the house to locate purse; find purse.
10. on way out, are ambushed by aunt pawning food off on you in re-used cool whip containers.
11. hug everyone in room AGAIN.
12. finally leave at a dead run, scramble into the car ala the dukes of hazard, and burn rubber.
13. get home at 7 pm, four hours later than anticipated, but knew you'd be back then anyway.

when i got home on monday i didn't want to see ANYONE.

for a week.

friends, family, roommates. my cats were even iffy, and they don't even talk.

insult to injury, i've been working far too many hours to be healthy in any given week. this weekend we had the opportunity to go see a movie on saturday night, or go and sit around a fire with friends--neither of which happened, as i was still hibernating in layers of air conditioned comfort, nice organice incense, cat fur and the glow of my new computer monitor.

today dan and i ventured out of the house and actually took a mosquito-infested walk. it wasn't too bad in the shade and i really do like the woods. but it was nice to get home.

i'm not antisocial, really.

it's just summer. and summer, for me, equals weather that makes me feel gunky, and gatherings in said weather. i feel guilt carried over from childhood when i look outside and see sunlight glinting off windshields, or the long, peach-colored shadows of dusk.

luckily, it passes. i think it's about time i came out of hibernation, for bits and pieces of summer.

hugs to anyone i've inadvertently ignored, while evading sun. i'm not a vampire, honest.