This morning I ran the defroster for an extra minute or two to clear the fog off the mirrors on my car, I lamented the sweater I had on underneath my coat because I certainly didn't need it, and then I drove down the highway, marvelling at the hotel-art quality snow-capped sunbathed mountains to the north. Seriously, this is what Bob Ross saw inside his head as he spoke in soothing tones while he painted.
Every morning PJ and I exclaim with delight the difference between the temperature here and what the Prairies rest at. We're dizzy with maniacal glee, and I'm sorry, but I plan to relish it, at least for this first west coast winter. PJ it's five freaking degrees! I know, princess, the succulents in the front garden are holding. What the fuck. We're in paradise here. Total and utter paradise and I love it from one end to the other.
In other news? I have to buy two more presents and some cranberry sauce and then you can stick a fork in me, because I'll be FINISHED.
Ready for Christmas.
Easy-peasy, since I start very, very early so as not to have to spend the spring smoothing the inevitable ripple in my finances. And also to make sure I make good decisions instead of rash ones when it comes to gifts. Also? I don't think the twenty-pound turkey I wrangled into the front seat of the car is actually going to FIT in the oven but I also am dreaming of the hot turkey sandwiches with gravy in the days after the holidays.
Oh, shit, right, we need a tree. We did buy a new tree stand. Yesterday, in fact.
I want to spend this Christmas fully drunk on good wine and better love (What was that? Oh, right, Bridget just set a GOAL). A far cry from last Christmas, that consisted of panic and plaster and tears and the inability to catch my breath or unclench my entire body from the fear. Hell, no. This is going to be the best Christmas ever, and a green one, if PJ and I have anything to say about it. The boys would like white. I think I've had enough of that. Green isn't my favorite color for nothing, you know.