On Love and Marshmallows

Rainy weather makes me sappy. I can't help it. I'm walking around in the cold, soaked to my knees, hair a frizzy mess, makeup running, and I'm thinking, God, the world is just so beautiful.

Do you have someone to share your umbrella with? A friend, a sister, a love? I rejoice for you. There's just not much out there that can beat smiles and secrets exchanged beneath an umbrella.

If there's anything that comes close, though, it's got to be hot chocolate. On days like this, I like to have friends over so that I may ply them with (soy) hot chocolate and marshmallows -- lots of marshmallows. I'm talking overflowing, have-to-eat-a-few-of-the-dry-top-ones excess. (I've always felt that you can tell a lot about how much someone loves you by how many marshmallows they put in your cocoa; nobody, to my knowledge, has ever picked up on this. I'm holding out hope that it will happen someday.)

2011 is capital 'd' Different. I've felt it in myriad forms and fashions lately, but it comes down to this: I will no longer skimp on my marshmallows for the sake of fear or doubt. I will rather love to the fullest, to incorrigible excess, and smilingly accept the consequences.