A very small Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving always used to be a crowded affair. I always enjoyed seeing everyone, catching up, and of course eating until I hated myself. Leftovers always had me thinking... why are there always leftovers? We've been doing this for decades, do we not know how to cook enough for the number of people attending? We manage every other meal, why is this one so different?

Turkeys are huge, and we generally only cook one once a year. That's probably why.

Well this year, sadly, I didn't see everyone. What I'm saying is that I have so many leftovers that I'll be finishing this off as Christmas breakfast. I won't want to touch the stuff until... ok next Thanksgiving.

Aggrivated mulching

There was one final day of nice, warmer weather. Only one, and immediately after it got cold and wet. Fortunately, that was a day where I actually had time. Seeing as I hate yard work, I took the easiest path to removing the leaves.

A giant riding mower. I ran over them again and again until there was nothing left of them but a fine mulch covering half my lawn. Not one half or the other, no, but an odd stripe pattern I cared not to disperse. I just kept riding back and forth, over and over, until there wasn't a leaf left. That I could reach, anyway.

And since it was still warm, I pulled the mower deck and installed the snowblower. It felt so odd installing a snowblower attachment when it was warm enough that I worked in short sleeves wishing I had a breeze in the garage, but there I was. My problem was that I, in years past, always forgot about it until it had already snowed. Of course when that happens, it's also cold. Very cold.

This only means that it won't snow much this winter.

The very windy day

So this massive tree sits in my backyard. Its canopy covers half the length of the yard, while totally eclipsing the width (it hangs over the fence on each side. My yard is much longer than it is wide). It's not like the other trees in the neighborhood: they drop their leaves much earlier. My tree is a stubborn one, refusing to let them go when it's light enough out for me to deal with them. When it's warm enough.

Early last week it gave up. Within three days it went from a tree full of dead leaves, to naked. The yard was covered in a thick blanket of ecological refuse. There it sat all week as my limited motivation was further hampered by my children wanting to play in it.

Spoiler alert: they didn't.

Then came the wind. The furious howling wind. I watched in awe as no massive branches dropped from the tree (happens any time it's even slightly gusty, so this was really strange), and then the leaves were entirely shoved across the lawn.

This is where having a chain link fence kinda sucks. Those leaves would have been entirely gone. Instead, I have an entire tree's worth of leaves crammed into one corner, piled almost as high as the fence.

...I hate yard work. Now it's as ugly as it was annoying.

Novemblarg

This time last year, we already had a snowstorm. So far this time around we've had endless sunshine and warm breezes. Don't get me wrong, my solar panels are in love with this (it's the 11th and we already surpassed the total Nov2018 amount), but a part of me is beyond ready for it to be cold. Mostly it's my vain side.

See, I hate my summer wardrobe. I've never been able to pull off the 'shorts and t-shirt' look. I just look like a 40 year old that gave up. Mostly because it's the only comfortable way I can dress. (I generate my own heat, so yea) Come winter, I can dress far more comfortably. Drop the temperature twenty or thirty degrees and I sleep like a baby.

No, babies wake up every 2 hours. I sleep like a dad. so comfy

I love it when I can wear sweaters. Right now it just needs to act like November.

Daylight stupid time

Nobody needs an extra hour of sleep on an already sleepy Sunday morning. For it to happen Halloween night was praised by many, but ultimately useless - everyone gets tired anyway.

I refused to change my clocks. Yesterday went as normal, with the discrepancy between self resetting clocks and those that did not hanging over all who dared pay attention. It's Monday morning and I'm living an hour in the future.

This probably won't last.