I complain about living in Southern California, especially in October, when the heat has gotten old a month ago, and you are just longing to wear jeans. Then by this time of the year, the temperature doesn’t know what the heck it wants to do; it will be 60 in the morning, and pushing 90 by noon.
I think spring and fall are my favorite seasons. You don’t have the extremes of winter and summer. It’s March 30th and everything is bright green, as if our backyard has woken from its winters’ nap. The birds are chirping and there is a breeze. Despite all the Claritin I will go through this spring, I guess I am fortunate to live here. Especially when there are still blizzards on the east coast.
Since the black runt (Pippa, this name for you is used only in love), Maggie’s life has changed dramatically. Although I was only three when Sarah was born, and don’t remember it well, and I felt the same way. Kind of left out.
My aide (who comes four hours morning) and I have been taking Maggi for walks. So she can have some Pippa-free time. The walks have gotten shorter. Maggie is eleven.
This is our usual route: down Garretson, our street, to the elementary school, probably a quarter mile, and back. Although the runt has aged her, Maggie still enjoys sniffing every bush and tree.
This picture was taken Friday. The air was crisp and it was probably 65 degrees. It had rained the previous night, and as you can see, things are extremely pretty afterward. You can’t see Big Bear Mountain, but it’s now covered with snow.
I complain about California, but I guess it beats blizzards in January!
WARNING: This post contains mature themes, so if you are a child, you MUST stop reading now!!!
As a kid of course I was like every other child on Christmas Eve. I got maybe two hours of sleep. I was imagining the bounty Santa would bring.
I think I figured out the truth about the fat, bearded man at about age nine. Of course I played along for my sisters, age five and six (and they say I was a mean big sister!).
The 33-year-old Erin finds the whole Santa thing quite ironic. When you’re a child your parents tells you to always tell the truth. It’s one of the Ten Commandments. Even God tells you not to lie.
Yet every single adult is in on the ruse. There are mall Santas and airplanes that track his whereabouts. I even heard on the news he was spotted over Saskatchewan.
I guess to adults, Santa is more of a fib than a lie. A fiblet, perhaps. A fiblet I plan to tell my future nieces and nephews.
I’d like to wish you a Happy Festivus!
What am I talking about? My parents were huge fans of “The show about nothing.” Even today, over 25 years later, we can’t have soup for dinner without one of them talking about the soup Nazi and usually when it’s about time Dad for to set up the Christmas tree he starts talking about Festivus.
Unfamiliar with this holiday?
I was, too. It’s a show I didn’t watch, so I googled it. Festivusweb.com explains the entire celebration.
When I think about it, this post was really a post about nothing, too. Fitting, don’t you think?
I’m currently in WordPress’s “class,” Writing: Finding Everyday Inspiration. I am going to try to keep up, but I completely forgot about Christmas when I signed up. So, I may get backed up, but my first assignment…
Day 1: Why do you blog?
My answer to this question has changed. Like I said in my “About Me,” I had a blog about my life, in general. I had hoped to connect with people in my same situation. But I guess if doctors, with all of their experience, have never seen a case like mine, I wouldn’t find it with a blog. Plus, my life is a challenge, often frustrating. The last thing I wanted to do was to reflect on that, I found.
When I think of “follies” I think of something just fun. Some people scrapbook for fun, others collect stamps, or stargaze. Me, I write. I like the mental challenge and, being nonverbal, it’s like I am speaking to the entire world!
So, I guess this blog is something fun for me. A hobby, if you will.
There. Day One of class done–many more to come!
Less than two weeks till Christmas (and less than three of 2016, how is that possible?). I’m almost done with my “shopping.” Our family is donating to charities again, and I know the charity for Kelley, I just need to do it.
I guess until I do I shouldn’t judge, but driving to dinner last night we passed a shopping center. From the freeway I couldn’t see all the stores, but I know Barnes and Noble and Best Buy where there. Needless to say, their parking lots were full. Poor Mom does grocery shopping at Target and why she doesn’t say “Oh, the heck with it,” and flee, I have no idea. This time of year there should be a “I’m-not-Christmas-shopping-I’m-regular-shopping” cash register open.
What I don’t understand is Christmas isn’t like, say, Easter. The date has always, and will always be, December 25th. Why do people act like it’s a sudden surprise come mid-December?
image courtesy of demonsinmybritches.blogspot.com
I can understand why people like to be out in the hustle and bustle of a festive environment, but when that environment includes harried shoppers and tired kids, count me out.
This post is a bit of a cheat as the only thing it has to do with the prompt is the word “horizon,” and I might do another one that truly has to do with the actual prompt, but for now…
Unless you live in a cave, you know that Christmas is on the horizon. Commercials are all Christmas related, either for toys or showing a frigid winter scene, and I listen to the Holly station while I write or do my Christmas business.
This morning I was in a particularly festive mood. I don’t know what it was. Maybe wearing my “ugly” (I use quotes because I don’t find it ugly at all) Christmas sweater bought by Mom and Sarah. They said I could not wear out of the house, although I would if I could. The whole thing doesn’t show up in the picture, but it says, “Fleece Navidad.”
Because of the mood I was in, I decided to go all out. I’m also wearing my Christmas socks (which you can’t see) and I’m under my “tree” (a certain black puppy visits my room and I didn’t trust her with a real tree; maybe next year).
Happy early holidays! I hope this post finds you in a festive mood!
- Wet dog (it stinks I know, but it means it’s actually raining in Southern California).
- The dusty aroma of the first time the heater clicks on for the season.
- The mintyness of Claritin (relief for my aching sinuses is on the way).
- Musty smell of the electric blanket.
- A Christmas tree lot (although we have a fake one now).
- Christmas cookies baking in the oven.
- Our family’s Christmas breakfast (chili eggs, which I don’t partake in. It’s overnight oatmeal for sisters, Mom, and I).
- Sometimes-stench of Maggie (her bed is right by mine. She only sleeps in it when it’s cold).
- The crispness of cold weather.
- The refreshing aroma the day after it rains.
- The wool of my cashmere throw that I have after my electric blanket is turned off.
As you’ve probably guessed, the eleven items above are smells of winter. My favorite smells of winter, at least. I’d love to hear your additions!