It's that time of year again where the primitive side of me wants to take over; I gorge on carbs, unpack all my big sweaters and tend to lounge around the house in them for what seems like - the whole winter!

What is it about the cold season that makes me want to turn into Mama Bear and hybernate? I can't drag myself up long enough to get much accomplished. All I want to do is eat and sleep. I do believe in the psychology world this is called "seasonal affective disorder" and is some form of depression. Combine that with my ever depleting hormone reserves and I am disaster waiting to happen. A ticking time bomb. Ha!

I am three weeks away from going home to Germany - in the dead of winter - for the first time in almost 20 years. I don't know for sure what came over me to pick this time of year. Perhaps it was the nostalgic notion of snow and Christmas markets, the old world charm of an ancient city covered in the white stuff and a cup of hot mulled wine. Or, more akin to the truth, I fear that if I do not go now, I may never see my mother again. She's been quite ill for a number of years.

I actually had a dream about her dying a few months ago which was followed with my decision to go visit. I foolishly told my sister about this dream and she in turn told everyone else. My mom's been talking about dividing out her worldly possessions ever since. Preemptive she calls it, so us siblings won't fight over her things when she goes. On one hand it bothers me that my sister told, on the other, I am flattered at how much stock my mom puts into my psychic abilities. I suppose if you throw in my partially gypsy grandma and my occassional bouts of accurate predictions and such, she probably figures I have the gift. I'm not so sure that I want it right now.

I mean, who wants to predict their mother's death? It's just morbid. Yet somehow, I do have the distinct feeling that this may very well be the last time I do see her. If you toss that notion in with my inevitable annual winter blues, you have yourself a mighty lethal combo, mon ami.

I try to keep my spirits up by looking at gorgeous photos of my favorite haunts covered in brilliantly white snow; reminiscing about the scent of anise candy and my grandma's cookies and generally wallowing in nostalgia about the good old days. It's going to be a tough winter this year.