Holiday mish-mash

We dropped in Limelite Studios before the big tree-lighting ceremony Friday in the triangle that is Opera House Square. The studio had the white tree up, snowflakes were being cut out of white paper by a normal, adult male. A couple others hung sparkly flakes in the storefront windows, and it was at least 80 degrees inside there. I sweat in my winter coat, hat and gloves, and a few seconds later I was shivering outside by the tree.

Those gathered around the tree before it was lit were singing "O Christmas Tree," and when the anticlimactic lighting of the dull white lights on the tree glowed, they pretty much stopped and faded away as the crowd dispersed.

We dined, we had some friends over, we listened to Christmas music on our iTunes, bragging about the 9.2 hours of Christmas music (not all good, admittedly) we have. The trees were all lit in my house.

It's pretty much Christmas, all over.

And yet Dave and I don't know what we're doing for Thanksgiving. I keep forgetting that stupidly placed holiday is still about a week away (who plans a holiday on a THURSDAY? Seriously). I forget that before we get too enthralled with the Peanuts Christmas soundtrack I got, we should probably talk about that whole turkey thing.

Ah, but that doesn't happen. As I checked out Christmas CDs from the library today, the librarian told me she's trying to live in the moment and enjoy the seasons and holidays in their correct order; she's right, ya know. I'm the reason people cringe the day after Halloween. I'm the reason early shopping days were invented. And maybe that's a bad thing. Probably.

But I don't want to live in this moment. I'm not so thankful for this exact moment. Christmas? I can pretend it's Christmas. I can see family. I can leave this city, for which the honeymoon's over and now we're just ... comfortable. So maybe if I have Harry Connick Jr. singing about Rudolph, it'll make Christmas come faster and we can be done with this whole boring waiting game.

Or maybe it just drags out. I dunno.