Blue Wednesday.

It's January, which means that I am at my annual low point for activity and aspiration.  Spring and the lacrosse season are weeks away, and I'm in the nadir of a self-indulgent recovery period after the bustle of coaching field hockey and orchestrating birthday and holiday celebrations.  And I think it's taken an extra forty-eight hours for me to feel the effects of this year's Blue Monday, the supposed most-depressing day of the year, because on the 21st I was distracted by searing beef for Inauguration Day Stew and feeling so happy for and proud of Barack Obama, especially for mentioning things like "Seneca Falls, and Selma, and Stonewall" in his inaugural address. 

Therefore, it's my Blue Wednesday.  And in addition to depression over Blue Monday factors like finances,  weather, and low motivation, it's probably relevant that I spent time with my mom at her nursing home this morning.  My visits with my mom are never really tragic; they're are more about a cumulative sadness than anything that's suddenly agonizing or terrible, although stronger feelings can arise later, in retrospect. That's why I usually don't dwell too long on what my mother has lost because of Alzheimer's.  And I avoid imagining the amazing grandmother she would've been, the silliness and fun we would've had together with my kids and my nieces and nephews.  I visit, and then I move on to the next thing.  And today, I would like the next thing to be the Jen equivalent of Rudy's quiet pajama time on the couch while leafing through her Lambie picture book.