It is with great heaviness of heart and something close to real grief that I take down the good old Scrooge Picard theme every year. It’s one reason I haven’t done much posting the last week; I just couldn’t bear the thought of it. As long as I stayed away from here, Picard would remain up, and the holiday season was still in some small way extant. The long dark night of January and February was knocking at the door, but I just wasn’t into opening the damned thing.
But like it or not, the fun, warmth, and peaceful reflection of the holidays is well and truly over; the wonderful music is off the radio, the cheerily colorful lights and decorations are put away until next year, and now we settle in for the long, grim haul of winter. There’s actually snow on the ground here in the sunny South, and temperatures this week have struggled to break out of the teens, although it’s supposed to be up to 75 this weekend, thank God.
I dunno, I always loved winter best as a young ‘un, but the older I get, the more miserable it seems to me. I was watching a neighborhood kid ride his dirt bike through the fresh snow the other day, just sliding and brodeying and blasting up roostertalls all up and down the street. He was having a ball, and I can remember doing the exact same thing when I was his age, and loving every minute of it. Now, my only thought was, “Lord, that looks AWFUL. I would no more do that shit than…”
Getting old ain’t for pussies. Except when it is. Could be worse, though; I could be in Buffalo.
Or Chicago, heaven forbid. And just like that, I suddenly feel a lot better about things.