Seasonal musings

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Ah, fall. My favorite season. I can’t quite figure out why I embrace a season that’s followed so closely by brrr-freezing weather, but it might have to do with the bittersweet nature of it all. And the fact that, as much as I’m not crazy about 20-below, I’m also pretty darn annoyed by temps higher than 83. I’m enamored of the milder seasons. Maybe I should move to San Francisco after all.

And although I love fall, I’ve never been big on Halloween. Honestly. I have memories from childhood of my breath condensing on those damn plastic masks that we many times wore. I hated that.

I also have a vivid memory of my only really cool costume, complete with a big ol’ witch’s hat, being ruined by a torrential downpour. We had to be carted to the houses in my babysitter’s station wagon and my hat wouldn’t fit in the car. So I had to remove it each time I got back in, then try to get it settled back on again when we went to the next house. Not to mention the fact that the rest of my costume was covered up by a raincoat! I hated that too.

Then there were the many evenings that it was too cold for just a costume and you had to either somehow jigger it so that you had layers underneath, or give in to the worst fate of wearing a coat over your ensemble. Yep. Hated that.

As an adult, I just plain can’t find the time, effort or energy to devise a good Halloween costume. Even if you give me all year to plan for it. I can’t understand how I happened into a career as a copywriter, yet can’t muster the creativity essential to the enjoyment of Halloween. Bah. I hate that.

And to add to the mix, now that I have a child (an adorable child, to be sure), the only Halloween cards to come into this house from the only people who ever sent them to me anyway (my mom and my aunt) are now for HIM. Ahem. Well, I don’t HATE that, but I’m nonetheless a bit miffed about it.

2 thoughts on “Seasonal musings”

  1. re “The Family” post… I have something I want to say. Love is love and being loved has no color, no race, no rules….and being loved without measure = happiness. Period. Oh and being loved means that everyone doing all that loving constantly worries if it is enough. 🙂

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