The first snow is falling.
There’s a fine white mist outside my office window, and I’m unsure whether it makes me excited for the holidays or not. The child in me wants to be giddy and happy about snow and Thanksgiving and having four days off in a row. The adult in me is not thrilled about travelling to Cleveland tomorrow with a Winter Storm Warning in effect, not to mention walking to my car after work today in the bitter cold.
I really want to be excited about the holidays, but it’s just not there.
Thanksgiving this year just seems kind of underwhelming, somehow. Aaron’s dad made the point that it’s kind of depressing, going to holidays now: Grammie and Poppa are getting old, finally, and Aaron’s aunt is going into a nursing home next week. Watching so many people decline in different ways at the same time is just saddening. Plus, now that holidays are being held at Uncle Pete’s house, he doesn’t seem to want or need our help with dinner; the old potluck-style Thanksgivings at Grammie and Poppa’s made us feel needed, somehow.
Then there’s the upcoming holiday season. Christmas, Yule, Ramadan, Kwanzaa, Hanukkah, insert-your-holiday-here. Not looking forward to that. I don’t really have a list of people to buy presents for anymore, which really takes the fun out of the holidays for me. Now it’s really just Aaron I’m buying for, plus shippable presents for my own scattered family members.
I could try being all artsy-craftsy and making the pine bough wreaths and garlands I’ve been thinking about, but I know the cat would try to eat them (since they smell like Outside), and the sap would probably ooze onto the walls and furniture, and eventually the needles would start to drop on the floor and generally make a mess.
What an un-cheery point of view I seem to have. Maybe I’ll get into it as the winter wears on.
The steady, powdery snowfall is starting to accumulate now. Happy Thanksgiving.