As I sit in my study, wearing shorts and a t-shirt, contemplating whether or not to go on a run at the beach, I think about how lucky I am to reside in California where the typical holiday weather is warm and mild, like the first kiss of a budding schoolyard romance.
Then I think about the east coast, where wintertime is more like a bitter divorce between a once happily married couple fighting for sole custody of the dog.
It’s a wonder that people can live normal lives in areas of the country where the seasons can bring out the worst in Mother Nature. Having to put chains on my tires to drive to the corner market, or having to drape an engine blanket on my car to ensure that it’ll start in the morning are utterly alien concepts to me. My vocabulary does not include the words “avalanche safety”, “ice the roads”, “snowshoes”, “thermal underwear” or “window scraper”. I’ve never seen frost on the inside of my bedroom window. I’ve never had any part of my body stick to a frozen pole. And I must admit that when people ask me if I’m “winterized”, I don’t know what the heck they’re talking about.
And quite frankly, I think I’m a weaker person for it. I’ve never had to think about having enough heating oil to last through a winter, worry about how much snow is weighing down my creaking roof, or even plowing the driveway. Heck, I shudder at the thought of having to walk between my car and office at six in the morning when the morning temps drop to a bitter 50°.
And so, to all of my friends out there having to put up with snowdrifts as high as an elephants eye, here’s big ole’ Hot Toddy to ya. You stay warm…and Merry Christmas!
I hope everyone survived the Thanksgiving holiday with enough vigor in reserve for the Christmas! I’m still recovering from gorging on what had to have been some of the best turkey I’ve ever had in my life. Thanksgiving also means indulging in one of my favorite foods…cranberry sauce that still retains of the shape of the can it was packed in.
Plop one of those bad boys on my plate along with some turkey slathered in gravy, stuffing, mashed potatoes and candied yams and I’m livin’ large.
This weekend also marked an important day in Tyler’s life…his first haircut! And yes, I was the one to wield the stainless steel scissors of bad judgement. Hey, I read a tutorial online five minutes before being let loose on the kid, which in my mind meant that I was an expert on the subject…
Gaze upon the look of fear and quiet desperation on Tyler’s face. He must have known that I really didn’t know what the heck I was doing. Smart kid…
And with Christmas just around the corner we’re slowly trying to introduce Tyler to the concepts of the oversized stockings, Christmas trees, egg nog, A Charlie Brown Christmas, decorative outdoor lighting and Christmas carols.
Something tells me that he’s getting into the spirit of the whole thing:
I just know that in the near future the local stores will be pimping Christmas on Easter. The sooner the better, right?
Seriously, Walmart?
It’s the morning after thanksgiving, and I’m awoken at the crack of 10am to the sound of Christmas music, rustling paper, and the shuffling of boxes. Thinking that I must be hearing things I roll over and turn on the DVD and flat screen and begin watching an episode of Land Of The Lost. Just when Marshall, Will, and Holly are about to figure out why gravity is acting all wonky I hear it again. This time the sound of boxes and paper is accompanied by the unmistakable tinkering, delicate bell-like echoings of…Christmas decorations?
I spring out of my bed to see what was the matter, and what to my wondering eyes should appear? It’s the wife, and she’s already decked the house out for Christmas. The hand rail to the stairs are wrapped with fake evergreen needles, various green and red accents are strategically placed carefully about the house, the fireplace is trimmed with garlands, and the fiber optic tree is up with presents already waiting patiently beneath.
Is it too soon for Christmas?
…and how many of those presents are mine? 
