I am no stranger to seasonal blue periods. Typically, I hit my low point during the holidays as I become overwhelmed but bounce back with organizational zest and fervor when the new year settles in. It helps that January and February have always been our down time as a family. That lull usually results in a much needed full battery recharge come March.

This year, however, I have yet to locate my motivation. In January, I refused resolutions. Day to day, I feel no nagging need to tackle the looming lists of things to do. I don’t even care about dieting…which is really not me. If anything, you could count on me to be perched on the border of an eating disorder. Now, I eat what I want and am still disgusted with myself for it but not enough to change the behavior. Currently, I am completely not compelled.

And I was doing so well. For many months, I’ve been, dare I say, happy. Giddy, even. Now the blahs have set back in and I almost don’t even care.

I believe it began with some family turmoil at Thanksgiving which boiled over into heated discussions and uneasy friction among too many. An olive branch was met with a list of demands, a list I immediately shrugged away. With no love lost and a long time until the next set of holidays, I was hoping to let the snoozing dogs lie.

Aside from a couple dark days spent in bed watching House and eating meatballs, I’ve been able keep a level head. Our trip to San Francisco did a great job of shifting my focus. I may have even been on the verge of a motivational surge but once again I feel as though my sails are windless.

Back to back snow storms, nine canceled school days, a husband that can’t get a flight home and a letter I wish I had never received may be the ingredients of my latest good feeling fail. I can’t be sure but I do know this much: When faced with such a large amount of free time on my hands, I would usually find all kinds of anal-retentive ways to be over-productive. And also? I know that whatever lies in that letter is going to sting, at the very least.

So here I sit, biting the inside of my lip and wondering what started what, when it will stop and …if maybe I could just ignore it all a bit longer.

On a positive (and way more adorable) note, I have amazing friends, family and neighbors that have gone out of their way to help while we have been snowed in. You know who you are and I hope you know that I love you.

And LOST is on tonight. Yes, Kimberly, there is always a bright side.

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Before The Blizzard of 2010

Friday Afternoon

Saturday Morning

Sunday Morning…and 25 inches later

Round Two begins tomorrow. Stay tuned.

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This may or may not have been the breakfast buffet after our a ladies night out sleepover a few weeks ago. The who’s and the why’s are not important but the what’s make for a great game.



Can you name the seven food & beverage items in this picture?

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Right now, I’m sitting in a recliner next to my napping husband in our west coast pad while a whole gaggle of Petro teens frolic in the city. We made it out of Virginia Thursday night on the reverse red eye just as the icy mix began to stick. As it turned out, the kids didn’t miss a day of school on Friday after all because it was closed due to the weather. So instead of worrying about driving around on icy roads, I’m relaxing in San Francisco where it’s raining which only reinforces my want/need to snuggle up on the couch with the Mr. and be thankful for the way things work out…sometimes.

One year ago this weekend, my kids and husband were in here while I stayed in Virginia and did the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do – put Lillian to sleep. Tomorrow it will be one year to the day that she died. Sometimes, I get choked up because I feel like can’t remember how she smelled. Other days, I fully expect to see her stretching out in the sun on the rug when I wake up in the morning. Needless to say, I continue to miss her terribly and with my whole heart.

Last weekend, I was choked up as well but in more of a 911 kind of way. We were holding our annual Jazzercise potluck New Year’s party at my house and had just filled our plates when something went dreadfully wrong inside of my esophagus. What I thought was just a harmless bite of brie baked in pastry transformed into a cement dam inside of my airway. I was choking.

Never mind that I know the Heimlich maneuver or that I was surrounded by a room of women who are trained in it as well as CPR but instead of rushing in for help or giving the international sign for choking (which never even occurred to me) I ran away from everyone in a panic. My screwy thought process was to keep drinking water until the clog passed however my anxiety tripled when the water I was gulping went halfway down, hit the brick wall of brie and then made its way back up and flying out of my mouth. And I realized that I could not breathe.

It was the lack of air that made me decide to scream for help but when I tried, no sound would come out. So I did the only logical thing, I started beating on the walls. This failed to get anyone’s attention so I put my fist at the bottom of the middle of my ribcage and threw myself at the wall. It was a painful act but it eventually gave me enough of a jolt to trigger a coughing fit. That led to the deadly appetizer eventually shooting out and left me sounding like an 80-year old chain smoker for the reminder of the night.

Let me just tell you that when the party starts with you almost dying, it gets pretty darn crazy from there. I mean, after you save your own life, you feel like you owe it to yourself to celebrate.

And that we did. Possibly too much…

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Thanks to everyone who voted for my picture. I didn’t win but I was thrilled to be showcased among such amazing talent!

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So, I entered a photo contest.…

…and this picture made it into the final round where YOU can to vote for a winner.

Mine is #9 – Kimberly Petro – A New Day…just in case you wanted to *ahem* vote for me.

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…whole, entire, freaking social life.



I rock.

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