Trying to be thankful

I’m finding it increasingly hard to be thankful for 80-degree weather in November. Not that it isn’t nice--but come on, it’s November for goodness sake. It’s a bit like receiving a leather jacket for Christmas when that’s what your brother wanted not you…it’s not quite what you asked for but you feel the need to be happy about it because it’s a gift, right?

Well I’ll come clean and say I wasn’t happy with the leather jacket (sorry mom), and I’m not happy with this summer-like weather when it is supposed to be raining (or better yet snowing, but that’s not likely here). This is the time of year when weather is supposed to afford us the luxury of relaxing by the fire, warm drink in hand, of wearing jeans and cozy wool sweaters. Hearty stews don’t taste quite right to me after a day in the sun, my new down comforter is too heavy to use, and forget sweaters - I’m still wearing tank tops and flip-flops.

The impending holidays seem just as out of place to me. Stringing Christmas lights when it’s 78-degrees out? (I witnessed this horror yesterday and thought I’d maybe skipped over part of my life and was now a retiree in Arizona) It was wrong. Almost as wrong as the new spring line of clothing coming out (think spaghetti straps, flip-flops, short-shorts) in Fred Meyer in February in Alaska and seeing all the high school girls wearing it in a foot or more of snow.

Some people are genuinely excited about all this warmness and sunshine and new green grass sprouting up. Some of these same people have grown up in California and think 40-degrees is freezing however, so they’re a little off to begin with. Don’t get me wrong, I love a sunny day…just not when it’s supposed to be cold. It’s a bit like trying to enjoy eggnog lattes all year long—part of what makes them so good is that you can only get them part of the year.

Soon enough I’ll be pining for warmer spring days I’m sure. I’ll be tired of the rain and wind, tired of having to wear a coat everywhere, ready for the heat of the sun on my face and for my bare feet to be in the sand again. Until then I’ll sip my eggnog latte in the sun and keep my comments about the warm weather to myself, mustering up thankfulness for untimely gifts.