Woke up this morning to the smell of fall. Something crisp and damp with a hint of decay in the air. Hopefully the decay can be attributed to falling leaves and not the bums that live on a mattress behind our house.
The smell is a promise of rebirth and holidays and pumpkins lined up in parking lots, and once those are gone Christmas trees to take their place. It's enough to make anyone go buy fresh notebooks and chew on a turkey drumstick.
Fall is a fleeting tease for a city that just had 95 degree weather a week ago. This is not me complaining. I still have bumpy gourds decorating the kitchen table and melting pumpkins adhering to the front porch steps. So what if I have to hang white lights in palm trees?
FYI It really doesn't matter what state your in, those enormous snow-globe lawn ornaments look tacky no matter what the climate.
Hailing from the Midwest, I will admit a shockingly scarce amount of life-size nativity scenes in Los Angeles last year. Nothing says holidays like offering your two-year-old to play stunt double for magical baby Jesus in the manger. His real hey-day before the Zombie years.
And don't get me started on the lack of fresh apple cider. Almost gave the grocery boy at Whole Foods a stern talking to after hearing no cider until Thanksgiving. Not sure what kind of operation they are running, but apple juice does not count.
How else am I going to drink spiced rum and yell at the neighbor kids for smashing our proudly decayed pumpkins well into November? How I ask?
