So it's Christmas time again. We've been decking some halls and checking lists twice and whatnot. And, man, is it ever sweater weather. Here in the middle of California we're having what I would have determined a cold snap, had it merely just snapped the once and got on with it. After two weeks of freezing temperatures its just simply cold now.
Note: above photo borrowed from http://blackdragonbrew.com/
I'm hoping since I'm singing their praises anyway, they won't mind...
It's almost that time again. I'm sure lots of folks out there are covering their ears at the sound of approaching carols and yelling, "Noooo! It's too early!" I hear you. Or I would, if my ears weren't covered too. And yet, When you stop to look at the calendar, one must admit it. The hour grows late. I think Hanukkah starts this week, Turkey Day is right behind that, and then we're neck deep in jingle bells and candy canes.
I was having a phone conversation today with a friend and we got around to the nuclear power plant meltdown at Fukushima and the cleanup and potential danger that it still poses two years down the line. What we ended up talking about was the difficulty in deciphering science from fiction in the news, and mainstream versus alternative media sources.
My son decided fairly early this year that he was going to be a superhero of his own description for Halloween. That description itself continued to evolve/mutate with super speed, along with the various accoutrements which spanned from crowns to dragon tails to super symbols that "look like fire in the shape of bacon" (direct quote, that), but the idea itself stuck true.
At some point plowing through the fabric store a year ago or so on some specific and urgent mission, I came across a pattern for this dress on a $1.99 sale rack and was taken with it. Even though I had no earthy purpose for it, I threw it in my basket. Turns out it's a rip-off of some costume that the chick from Twilight wore in a horrible Snow White movie. (Cheryl and I later rented it; it really was horrible, but not quite horrible enough to be funny.)
I'm dreaming of a Halloween fright
Just like the ones I used to dread
Where vamp fangs glisten
And children listen
To hear monsters 'neath the bed
I'm dreaming of a Halloween fright
With every zombie that I smite
May your days be spooky and weird
And may all your Halloweens be feared
I keep a spiral notebook on my desk at the office. It's a work habit I picked up from my dad. And in that notebook, in addition to actual note-taking, I've been known to doodle. (Another habit I picked up from Dad, I believe.)
For the past eleven years, the bulk of any strenuous physical activity I've undertaken has occurred at the barre in ballet class. (I may have mentioned.)
The string of logic that has taken me from there to here where I'm sitting right now might be better categorized as a thread, but it does exist. The long and short of that thread breaks down to wanting to try something completely different.
Hockey's different.
It was late by the time we all trickled into the house this evening. With a take-and-bake pizza sitting in the oven and a text from my Dad about the start of the first A's playoff game, I hunted out the remote in search of the proper station.
"I'm not sure we'll get it here," Shawn calls from the kitchen. "Not on any TV station we get anyway."
He was right. Apparently the Oakland Athletics don't rate out here in the greater Sac-of-Tomatoes area.
Meanwhile, my six-year-old is listening to this exchange. "What's a TV station?"
