I'm not going down.

I just wiped out in the Walgreens parking lot. I was walking into the store behind a big running suv thinking how it would be bad if someone fell behind that car and just like that my face was looking at the ice. I landed on my knees, caught myself on my wrists, and watched my red box rental skid across the ice.

In an instant I was over winter. I've kept nice and positive, but picking myself up, wrists stinging, knees throbbing, and assuring kind people that I was okay, I decided I'm done.

I'm done with sub zero temperatures. I'm done with my breath being sucked out of my chest when I step outside. I'm done wrestling my kids into their car seats with their big, fat coats. I'm done with the crappy, scary driving. I am done.

But there is a problem with being done with winter, and it seems to be a big one.

I can't be. Being done is not a choice. So while limping through Walgreens over to the photo lab I decided not to entertain those thoughts. I can't be done with winter, so I won't be. I'll keep telling myself that it really is beautiful out there. And that the remembrance of all this snow will be etched in Ivar's childhood memories forever. And I'll start wearing my sorrels again, every day. I'll go buy more warm socks at Target. The twelve dollar kind. And I'll start shopping for a new winter coat. The kind that goes to my knees like a sleeping bag.

I'll make pot roast and lots of soups. I'll take naps in the sun and take my vitamin d. I'll wear long underwear if I have to.

Because I'm not going down.