It's been one long holiday weekend hangover here in the desert, where it still can't quite decide which direction to go on the seasons, vacillating between summer and fall on a weekly basis. Perhaps the climate took one look at the Christmas decorations that popped up at Target before Halloween had even come, and threw up its hands and said fuck it, if the calendar's not relevant any more then screw the moon and tilt of the earth's axis too.
So the calendar says Thanksgiving's gone and it's coming on Christmas. We got five days or so of glorious cold nights and mornings, with cloud cover tossed in as an accent, and now we're looking at four or five more of 70s and sun. It never quite felt like Thanksgiving, and despite the Celtic Christmas CDs spinning away in the living room, it doesn't feel like December is imminent either.
The streets have been pretty empty the couple of times I ventured out to reconnoiter the shopping prospects. Did everyone finish what they needed to do on Black Friday, or drop from exhaustion trying? I refuse to buy anything on Black Friday; my own shopping has been scattershot and opportunistic for the past several months. Upside? Not rushing around like a maniac at the last second and feeling a big hit in the wallet. Downside? Well, the last-minute rushing around did have a few festive overtones from time to time, and served to remind me what the date was.
Now I'm mostly waiting. Waiting for the girlfriend to get home, waiting for her next trip before Christmas to come and go as quickly as possible, waiting for it to start feeling like the holiday season. Waiting for it to snow.