Proof You Can Post About Nothing

So while all you people out east have been frowning under a big, fat blanket of white wintery snow (and all you L.A. dwellers are crying for your mamas and calling out FEMA because the temperature got all badass and fell under 60 degrees F. for a while there), out here we’ve had merely a tiny light dusting of the white powdery stuff. For your information, that's snow, not cocaine, but thanks for thinking it, degenerates. It was sort of like a spritzing of fairy dust, which is surprising and pleasing all at once, if a little unusual.

Actually all of us badass northern United States along with the central Canadian provinces (from herein known as “La Resistance”) just got together covertly, in a special underground, secret bunker and decided to reroute all our normal snow to you guys out east and paid a formidable dude called “Johnny Knuckles” who isn’t listed in the phone book, to go deliver it in the dead of night. We had to pay him in the limbs of kittens and small children, so it's a serious matter. 

Talking of small children, this photo never fails to bring me joy. Also this kid looks like a 10 year old Hunter.

So surprise east coasters! Happy Holidays! You can thank us later. Viva la resistance!

The past few days weren’t even cold up here. It was about 26 degrees F which is practically summer. I was even able to go walking my errands the other day without dying. Usually, going out this time of year constitutes standing nervously at the outside door gathering my wits about me, before sprinting to the car like a demented hyena, then sitting inside shaking and feeling my innards freeze and chanting nasty words till the engine heats up.

Then driving off with the engine still plugged in (oops!)

But not lately. It’s been all calm and delightful and I’ve been wistfully waiting for palm trees to spring up in the yard.

I mean true, during my errands walk I almost froze off my ears in a miscalculation involving me completely forgetting about a little thing called “wind chill” and concluding with me buying a startlingly unattractive, yet cozy, emergency hat, complete with furry ear flaps, in order to make it home without frostbite. If you can imagine a five foot six, red cheeked, sweary lumberjack with boobs, tromping through a pitifully tiny amount of snow in the evening darkness, saying things like, “holy mother of fuck, I have gravely underestimated the situation!” then that would be me.

I’m also somewhat amazed that Christmas is happening this week. I mean this week, people. How did that happen? It just sort of snuck up on us. I mean I know it happens every December and I probably shouldn’t be all that surprised, but yet, I am.

I like Christmas! The food, the drinks, the pretty lights, my welfare Christmas tree from the Dollar Store, the bottle of Pimms currently sitting on the kitchen table, me making a trifle, not doing anything except eating, sleeping and watching bad TV. Perfect. It should be Christmas every month. I mean I realize I’m about as religious as a grapefruit, but I still like the whole good cheer element of the holidays. The magic. Santa Claus and cheesy music. Chestnuts roasting on an open fire and all that nonsense. Plus I love that law that states you must eat chocolate all day on Christmas or you get arrested.

What? You don't know that law? Take it from me, it's serious. And I am nothing if not a good law abiding citizen.

Did you just call me sappy? Don’t call me sappy.

...just me then.