I've spent the last several weeks, while wearing short sleeved shirts, grumbling about how it just doesn't FEEL like the holidays are upon us here in the U.S.
When I was a kid, in the Great White North, Thanksgiving was always greeted by frost on the pumpkin, heavy sweaters and seasonally-appropriate heavy food. Christmas was always white and New Year's Day was always frigid.
Now, when I visit Yankeeland for the holidays I am lucky if it is cool enough at Christmas to build a fire, let alone go sledding.
Anyway, back to recent events: I've been Grinching around since Halloween that I'm too stressed to get into the holiday spirit. I'm too busy to take the time to anticipate, kid-like, the holidays. The economy is too sickly to really celebrate properly this year...and that's why I'm in a non-jolly mood. (Yes, Grinching is a verb, and non-jolly is an adjective. I refer you to the SED [Seuss English Dictionary] if you don't believe me).
It was all an illusion. Two days ago the 70-degree weather finally broke, heavy frost blanketed my car - the car I can't park in the garage because that space is reserved for Hubster's toys - and I was able to wear a cute sweater without, ironically, breaking a sweat.
And suddenly it feels like Christmas! It feels like Thanksgiving is next week!
So here's the thought: If people don't give a rip about their carbon footprint, if they aren't particularly moved by the hole in the ozone frying innocent penguins and Swedish researchers in Antarctica, if they're still - oh, the horror - using incandescent light bulbs...ask them when, exactly, they experienced their last White Christmas.
If they fall into a wistful trance - QUICK! - call Al Gore and perform an intervention.
The penguins and Sven with thank you for it.