How Global Warming Stole Christmas

Almost.

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.