Break out the cheese platters, folks because it's time for Pam's annual Whine Party. Misery loves company, so come on in and sit a spell. BYOW. (Bring Your Own Wine/Whine.)

Ok, so I'm actually not totally wallowing in self-pity and despair – but I am tired and cranky and slightly flustered.  I feel as though I have a huge sign on my back that says, "Kick Me."  And I feel as though I am being pummeled by feet from all directions.

Most people I know love this time of year where there is a brief break from Old Man Winter.  The snow melts and disappears and warm temperatures pop in for a quick visit.  I hate it.  I hate that the beautiful glistening snow has left the premises and left in its wake a brown and forlorn lawn.  I hate the mud that is the result of rain.  Sure, winter can leave – but leave permanently, dang it and Spring with all of its radiant and colorful flowers and budding trees should be immediately ushered in.

It's not just the weather that I am grumpy about.  I'm tired of deadlines and chasing people and trying to get commitments.  I'm tired of tracking down photos and stories and ad sheets.

I am not amused by other grumpy people.  Why is everyone so grumpy?  Is it just me or is today's society full of morons?  Since when has the grocery store parking lot turned into the Indy 500?  For cryin' out loud, peeps – I am sure that the toilet paper stock will not diminish if you drive 20 mph in the lot and park legally in a spot at the end.  And then those morons enter the store, and well; all heck seems to break out.  They careen those buggies up and down the aisles without mercy.  And then suddenly – bam! They stop dead in their tracks, leaving the cart in the middle of the aisle, of course, while they peruse the soup can labels.  And they give you the hairy eyeball when you attempt to maneuver around them.  Excuse me, indeed! Oh, don't even get me started on the checkout lines.  I am a person who needs her space.  I need lots and lots of space – don't fence me in.  It never fails that someone comes up behind me in line and just gets all up in my business.  Hello!  I can't make this line move any faster – stand back!  They never stand back, in fact they hover so much that I have on occasion actually felt their breath on my neck.  Yuck!  I honestly try to be patient and kind and considerate – but I am in a snarky mood lately and just the other day I lost it and turned to the man behind me and said, "I'd appreciate it very much if you would crawl back out of my derriere."  Except, well I didn't say derriere…  The clerk had to turn her head to hide her smile and the man just looked at me with this 'Duh?' look and tried to inch up even closer.

And my beloved Pittsburgh sports teams! Oh my! What a heartbreaker in the Super Bowl (and don't get me started on the armchair critics and the folks who aren't true fans and just jump on the bandwagon at the last minute). And my Pens and their injuries.

I'm feeling sad right now – a lot of sad things have happened to our family and friends lately. I want to curl up in a ball and lock the world away.  I want to eat ice cream and candy bars and drink a 12-pack of Pepsi.  I want to keen like my Irish ancestors and rend my clothes and just scream at the top of my lungs for at least an hour.  Instead I paper punch out hundreds of elephants and store them in a ziplock bag.  It's much quieter to do that.

I find myself reading the book of Psalms from the Bible a lot – it brings me comfort to read the words from thousands of years ago.

I finally lose 8 pounds of the 20 pounds I gained last year and the local ice cream place opened its doors a month early. I can catch no breaks, I tell you!  I celebrated the opening day with a banana split but I am happy to report that I am employing restraint and haven't been back since.

And although it's probably TMI, I will be 50 in five short months and our heating bills have dropped dramatically because I am now blessed with hot flashes.  It's more like bolts of molten lava that have invaded every inch of my body.  I have not adorned my long-handled underwear once this winter; instead I have been wearing my summer shorts and tees.  Am I cranky with this new phase and chapter of my life?  Ask my husband and dog.  (I think they are both hiding outside in the doghouse.)

I might be a "Drama Mama" and exaggerating and embellishing a wee bit.  But be forewarned, if you try and kick me at this point, chances are pretty darn good that I'm gonna kick you back.  Now stop invading my private space, get me a Nutty Buddy and a handful of ice cubes and then just run, run like the wind, my friends.  They say this phase only last for around ten years. I'll send you a postcard when it's safe to come back.