The Colorado air is dry.

This parched feeling is all-pervasive, making itself known in every part of my body.  My skin is the Sahara, my eyeballs, sandpaper.  I smile, and my bottom lip splits like the back of Chris Farley’s coat.  My hands are cracking, my cuticles flaking.  I cannot drink enough water.

Short from slathering myself with lard, there’s not much I can do about it.  Still, I will take dry over humid any day.

Denver is incredibly sunny - over 300 days a year of sunshine.  Right now, even though it’s 16 degrees outside, the light is intense.  Seattle being my one true love, this brightness is an adjustment for me.   My eyes are wimpy and require sunglasses basically all the time.  I’m wearing sunscreen like it’s my job; being a mile closer to the sun than I was before, I walk down the block and come back pink.  I need to get a hat - I’m sensitive, folks.  Even my lips are freckled.

I am suspicious that every person I see out and about is an Olympic athlete.  Denver is a ridiculously active city - even more than Seattle, it seems.  Everyone looks young and healthy and fit and strong.

And having run 7.6 miles at a Mile High altitude yesterday morning, I dare say that I fit right in.

Speaking of health, on Friday night, I got a bee in my bonnet.  And after a 2-hour wait at the very fabulous Root Down, I GOT MY BEET SALAD THANKYOUVERYMUCH.

It was not nearly as good as Fuel’s.  But the cheese plate and wine made up for it.

So… scratch that thing I said about “health.”

I am sitting in my pajamas in our gigantic den, basking in the sunlight that is shining through the windows.  I have coffee.  My feet are in my old wool socks, and I can hear the whir of the washing machine in the basement.  I have done the dishes, started the laundry, put the mail in the mailbox, and am about to get going on some serious job applications.

I think that I might love being unemployed.

But let’s be real.  There’s always the money thing.  I am broke as a joke.

So on Saturday, the Running Club gave me the inspiration to attempt going an entire week – 7 whole days – without spending a single penny.  In preparation, I took out my car and gassed it up (with the $20 bill my mom sent me in a Valentine’s Day card – thanks Mom!), picked up my prescription at Wal-Mart ($4 for the generic drugs), and went home to hunker down.

Actually, I didn’t “hunker down.”  I told PZC that I was “girding up my loins”… after which I had to ask him
a)    What are loins? and
b)    Do I have them?

I wrote checks for the bills that are due (including my rent, and a monstrosity of a heating bill… what on EARTH, February?), and organized my pantry, taking stock of the food that I have.  If my cupboard is any indication, it appears that this week, I will be eating diced tomatoes, raisins, and a small packet of peanuts from my last Southwest flight.

Good thing we had a housewarming party on Friday night, and have tons of leftover beer!  If Yuengling doesn’t count as sustenance, I don’t know what does.

Truly, this will be an experiment of epic proportions.  I cannot remember a time that I went an entire week without spending any money.  But I am confident that I can do it – and I am going to do it with panache.

- - - - - - - -

By the way…

I am still not scared.  I know that I will survive this season of unemployment, however long it lasts.  I am hopeful that this is the beginning of something good – and although I do not believe that “everything happens for a reason,” I want to believe that “nothing is ever wasted.”

Including those Southwest peanuts.

In the midst of the insanity that is my existence, I took a walk this afternoon. And as the sun shone down and I thought my many complicated and stressful thoughts, one thing kept popping into my head. Gratitude.

Over and over, there are things to be grateful for.

Despite uncertainty, despite my lack of health insurance, despite phone bills $100 more than they should have been, my life is pretty amazing. Things have a way of working themselves out. And joy has a way of finding its way back into my heart.

The trees are brittle and bare. There is a sharp edge to the wind, and the green grass is nowhere to be seen. It’s cold. It’s silent. But on some days, like today, there is sunshine. I am grateful for this season - this season of absence and anticipation. It means that the budding time is next.