And to All a Good Night

Last week I wasn't feeling the Christmas spirit. That feeling is warmer than a good mood, brighter than a hope. I felt okay, just not Christmasy. Plus it was raining.

Friends, local and cyber, made suggestions as to where to look for my Christmas spirit and I tried them all. I played Christmas music, read Christmas stories, gave to charity. I watched Christmas videos, listened to Christmas carolers, viewed Christmas lights in the rain. It was beginning to work. I was starting to feel warm and fuzzy.

Wednesday night, the storm broke. On the suggestion of Pasadena's Public Information Officer Ann Erdman, I drove to upper Hastings Ranch, a Pasadena neighborhood that (surprise!) was once a ranch owned by a family named Hastings. The neighbors there put on a Christmas light show every year. I drove up the hill, as far up as I could go, stopping every so often to take pictures. Then, not quite satisfied, I turned around to head home.

Then I saw the lights of the San Gabriel Valley under the post-storm sky. That was all I needed.

Merry Christmas to all!

Not in the Spirit Yet

I had a migraine yesterday which is unfortunate any day but particularly unfortunate yesterday as I had party invitations as well as errands, a whole long planned-out tightly scheduled day with an itinerary and a list with subcategories, which is probably why I had a migraine in the first place but the doctor thinks it's because of caffeine and he is insane

...oh excuse me, I was saying...uh

Well, so I took my pill early in the day. Pain over by mid-afternoon. Good. Still, I am worn out and stupid on a migraine day, long after the pain itself is gone. I cancel all appointments/plans. I cut out every unnecessary errand. But there is one, one, one that HAS to happen.

So I am standing in the aisle at Ralph's in Hastings Ranch (because I have already been to two other stores and cannot find small paper cups for hot drinks) and I'm looking at styrofoam cups. I don't want styrofoam cups. They come in a package of 50. I will be serving warm apple cider to about 12 little children and no one has kid-size hot drink cups. I have the aisle all to myself and I'm swearing at the styrofoam.

Some country-pop singer is wailing out a Christmas song on the intercom. Not a traditional Christmas song but a brand new one, made up fresh this year, probably by some junior high school kid hopped up on sugar and romance, and it's so saccharine and sappy and awful and they are blasting it. They always blast the music at that Ralph's, I can never get out of there fast enough because the music is so loud even when they play non-Christmas music, but this time the music is loud and crappy and I have to buy this huge honking bag of #$@&ing styrofoam.

I can't find the kind of cookies I want and I'm afraid to ask because if I do I won't be able to keep from either shouting or sobbing. They'll think I'm as insane as my doctor is, so I just buy the styrofoam and leave.

I make it home. When John gets home he looks at me and says, "Early to bed for some people."

I (almost) wish the problem was coffee. At least then migraines would be under my control and I would schedule them on more convenient days.

In cheerier news: Laurie Barlow won the final installment of the PDP/PPM Books Contest when her name was drawn from among the correct answers to the question, "Who is my favorite dog?" It is Boz indeed. Laurie wins a copy of At Home Pasadena, courtesy of Prospect Park Media.

I've enjoyed the contest and I hope you have, too. Thanks, Prospect Park Media and thanks to all who entered!

Sepia Man

A guy finds a shady spot on a sunny day so he can set a spell. He leans his back against the cool cement and closes his eyes for a moment. When he opens them, he might whittle a little something if he finds a good stick. He might play a sweet tune on his harmonica.

Or he might check his email on his smartphone.

A Thanksgiving Moment

As we savor this week of Thanksgiving it's useful to take a moment to reflect on what's important, before the rampant consumerism of Christmas sets upon us.

Ohm.