Or in other words; The Curse of February Is Upon Us.

I woke up today feeling angry and annoyed about something at work, feeling a little bit frustrated with those emotions because I also knew I couldn’t vent at the guy who was the source of my consternation because he’s a subordinate. Before I left for work, 3T and I said a prayer. Then, as I drove to work, I was extra careful as I cursed how unseasonably cold it was out here in the desert.

Yes, it’s February, the really cruelest month.  Forget what the poet T.S. Ellliott said about April being the cruelest; February has it beat hands down.

If you’re a longtime reader of my bride’s blog, you know she’s written extensively in the past about this cursed month.

When we first married, I used to smile at her hyper-superstitious attitude toward February, especially, but not exclusively, Valentine’s Day. Yes, she told me how her ex, when they were married, wrecked his car in a head-on collision running to get flowers because he forgot Valentine’s Day. I said yes, that was bad luck. But I also thought that was typical of his near legendary absent-mindedness and refusal to plan even an hour ahead.

But over time, I have learned first-hand the February curse.

Lets see, just two years ago, the love of my life was wracked with pain from a bulging disc, and it took us weeks to find a cure. Though that started in January, it continued well into February, and was compounded by our former family physician’s initial refusal to even believe that she was suffering. The x-rays convinced him, but I still can’t understand why that hack wasn’t moved by her anguish.

Then, of course, came February 2006, the month I was diagnosed with prostate cancer. I won’t go into all the gory details, all the grueling tests I underwent, to say nothing of the hack job my surgeon did that almost put me at death’s door. Yes, all that occurred over the course of four months, but it started in February.

And I am now a believer in the February Curse.

Yes, there have been some memorable moments 3T and I have shared in February. One that comes to mind was our trip last year to Blush, a fundraising effort put on by some groups that assist AIDS victims. It was a hoot, and a lovely time. And we’ve had our own special, private moments. Not even February can rob us of them.

Still, nothing like seeing one’s spouse writhing in pain without end or being told you have cancer that affects your manhood to dim one’s view of the month these things occur.

In some ways, I should have known better about this month from the start. When I lived back in the northeast, February pretty much marked the beginning of a dark depression that enveloped me until April. That was completely attributable to the miserable winters that are an annual event back there. Winters I never ever miss since I moved to the desert in 1999. Winters that bit your skin like a hundred mosquitoes. Winters that posed a danger just about anytime you were driving. Winters that enveloped everyone with so much darkness that you felt a kinship with Eskimos. Winters I will never ever be near again.

Unfortunately, the only way we cannot be near February again is a bit too stark of an alternative to suffering through it. I don’t want to be dead, in other words. So I and my bride will just endure, fists and teeth clenched, hoping for the best and expecting something less than. We’ll keep one eye on the calendar as February draws closer and closer to an end. And most of all, we’ll do our damndest to make love and laughter an antidote to this most wretched of all months.

Yes Dad, I’ve made another believer in The Curse of February. So much so, that we do not, nor shall we ever acknowledge Valentines Day, in any way, shape or form. Take THAT! Hallmark!

Our Best to Everyone, this most cursed of all months.

Kevin & Teri