When I was a little kid we used to go to pumpkin patches and harvest festivals in the Fall where they had free apple cider and homemade kettle corn. They had games and hayrides and, if you were really lucky, a freakin’ pony. Nothing was better than walking away from that patch carrying the perfect size pumpkin for your little body. Yes, Fall brought its own magic. But, it’s no Christmas, and that’s become a problem for the American people.
I can’t wait for Christmas. I, like every other red-blooded American, look forward to Christmas all year long. But unlike a lot of other people, I refuse to start celebrating the most wonderful time of the year until after Thanksgiving. Why? I want to enjoy the entire year. And that includes Fall (which doesn’t actually exist in Los Angeles, but, meh).
I want to drink apple cider and light apple cinnamon candles and wear cozy socks and read and sit by my imaginary fireplace and ya, buy into that whole pumpkin spice craze (if I must). And right now I don’t know how I’m supposed to do that when I’ve got the Christmas industry shoving cookies shaped like Rudolph down my throat. At the moment, I’m trying to gear up for Thanksgiving, which is now a blip during the Christmas season, not its own holiday. And that just ain’t right. I want that turkey to get its proper due. After all, I spend a full day cooking it and the family spends a totally of 10 minutes eating it, so it deserves some respect, right.
Right now I’m drinking some warmed up spiced cider, and let me tell you, it’s good. It’s good enough that I can focus on it and only it until Thanksgiving has come and gone. And then, I promise you, I will be the first to throw out the pumpkin crap in the pantry and set up my tree.1