Dear January, In so many ways, you have become one of my favorite months. I love the permission you give to hibernate and drink gallons of hot tea and create soup. I love that your indoor fashion requirements include velour pants. I love the scarves you insist I wrap myself in. I love the silence of your snow. What I am starting not to love, however, is the tendency to become inert under your watch. The inactive, dull and slow pace of my life; the disinclination to accomplish anything; this is starting to tarnish my love for you, January. Dullness is a slippery slope. It can melt into mild depression. And I certainly don't need that. So, today, dear January, I will brave your ridiculously low temperatures, shed my velour skin and venture out to play. I need to make my own sunshine because you've been stingy with yours. I need to balance my brain with laughter and pleasant distraction, hot food and good company. I need to add some colors to my month before I become a singular shade of blue.