I think I sing the praises of winter around this time every year. I am a member of the distinct minority that enjoys the short days and the long nights. I also like the short nights and the long days. I like any season until I get sick of it. Pretty much my favorite kind of weather is "the first day it..." I love the first day I put on a sweater, the first day it snows, the first day I can go out in shirt sleeves, the first day I can swim in Lake Michigan without freezing my nards off (my friend Danno told me that women also have nards and he's pretty smart so I'm sticking with the expression).
But December is much maligned by us earthwalkers. Most people just really super duper hate it. We hate it so much we designed this whole festival of lights with inside trees and brightly colored ornaments and twinkly lights to get over our collective depression at getting only seven or eight hours of light (look.. I know many of you believe in Jesus and love him and stuff... but we do this whole Christmas thing as a mechanism to help us get through the long, cold night. That's for realz the reason for the season. Everything else is just tacked on. WAR ON CHRISTMAS! SOMEONE CALL O'REILLY. STAT!)
And I do love Christmas, with the pretty pretty ornaments and the presents and stuff. But, come on you guys, here in this first world place we live in, can't we give a little love to the long lustrous night? To the coziness of home fires? To just doing a little fucking less and enjoying the opportunity to kick back?
It's dark out. Let's just pour a glass of wine and play a little Uno, read a book, watch a movie we haven't seen in a while. Let the kid skip that class. The world won't end if the rug goes unvacuumed. Don't go checking your work mail during commercial breaks. It's dark out. The world is giving us a break.
And I'm blogging through it. In the old days, the pre-kid days, I'd spend these nights hanging out at the bar. Playing Uno with Laney is probably a little better... but those nights at the bar sure had their charms.
