Last Thanksgiving, a year ago, Stoker and I were in
Here in the land of sun, it’s been cold (and when I say sun, I mean it—I long for a cloud). I’m not sure how cold, temperature wise, but cold enough to need a coat in the morning. Or a light jacket and a beanie. A few weeks ago it was still in the 80s and high 70s and I saw people in boots and wool sweaters. I think that was mainly a fashion statement because the boots were those Ug boots. Or whatever they’re called. Ugk, Ukg. Whatever. Last year I had a roommate (Anna) who fished a pair of them out of a dumpster. She was like that. I couldn’t believe she wore them, either. She might have said they smelled bad and needed a wash (perhaps why they were in the dumpster?). And there might have been holes in the soles. But she wore them anyway.
Over the weekend I watched the news because there was nothing else on and Fox began their news segment with an extreme weather news flash. A cold front was coming in and it was a breaking thing. Be prepared! Temperatures in the 60s! But after being acclimatized to the 90s and 100s, this is a sudden and vicious change. And it’s not even a pleasant, wintery change because there’s no snow! Just sun. It’s a rip-off. That’s how I feel. Cheated.
So I miss last Thanksgiving, when it was cloudy, rainy and cool and all I wanted to do was stay inside with a mug of steaming hot chocolate, fluffy blankets, and a book or a Jane Austen movie. And a Stoker.
There’s this feeling to autumn in northern