Spring Has Sprung

It always seems to me that spring calls for fresh starts much more than January 1, that hangover holiday with its sideways sleet and jean cuffs ringed with crusts of snow-melting salt. Somehow making a resolution to do or be better comes easily when lush, green newness is sprouting up everywhere. There are about a million shades of the color right outside our window, including the shoots and buds and leaves taking over the garden/cluster of potted plants squatting on the fire escape.  There’s new animal life in early progress too, thanks to the parcel of pigeons rutting away on said fire escape who leisurely snip off chunks of our pea vines for refreshment in between their bouts of  lovemaking. Iced coffee is back, and welcome. (To be fair, this is a Dunkin Donuts town and for most, iced coffee never left. But it’s seasonal for me).

Not as inspiring but definitely a sign of spring, the South End ice cream truck has begun its rounds. In a modern day Inferno you might find this thing driving loops around one of the milder circles of hell, plaguing the lecherous politicians or convenience store thieves in that circle bonkers with its classic ice cream truck songs blaring on repeat, “punctuated by car horns and a crazy woman’s voice yelling “HELLO!?!” as one Chowhound commenter aptly wrote.

So where are we with spring resolutions? Besides the usual sprucing and cleaning and trimming down, this season we’re aiming for more homemade projects including but not limited to: sprouts from seed, the most ideal and pleasant chicken partnership you’ve ever heard of, stocks and sauces from scratch, a canning extravaganza, denim cutoffs, family oral histories, and a romantic date attending a welding workshop. We’re looking to incorporate more and varied vegetables into the ol’ weeknight meals. We’re going to travel to a few new places, hike more often, watch the new season of Sherlock, and, come hell or high water, buy a new bedspread.

Sounds like a pretty good spring to me.

Quite a Display

If you’ve ever racked your brain trying to come up with a way to show your significant other that you love them and they mean the world to you, rack no further. I’ve discovered the answer just this afternoon.

It’s not a gift you can go out and buy (although depending on your music library you might need to budget a $0.99 expenditure). It’s not a gift that requires any special equipment or tools. It’s not flowers, chocolate, hot air balloon ride, jewelry, golf game, massage, cupcakes, metal welding class (some people around here like that kind of thing), cleaning the apartment, puppy, kitten, thoughtful note, home cooked meal, or a hug. It’s not your usual old song and dance.

It’s a SPECIAL song and dance, featuring Annie Lennox and whatever gyrations the spirit moves you to perform with it.  In my case, a lot of swaying and crooning, interpretive gestures, and then some cowboy-stance high leg kicks.  Take ten minutes to learn the lyrics, then get your significant other seated on the couch, lull them into a quiet moment, get about 1 minute 30 seconds into the song, then turn up the volume and let ‘er rip.

Believe me, either (s)he will run for the hills, or you’ll see a lot of head shaking and a poor attempt at grin suppression. In which case you know you’ve got him/her for life, hook, line and sinker.