John and I watched the first game of the World Series tonight. Love and baseball are inextricably entwined in my mind since we were in Hawaii for our honeymoon during the crucial fourth game of 1989's World Series. We got to listen to the Giants lose the series on the radio while driving along the Kona Coast. So romantic, and so painful. In this series I'm rooting for the Yankees. I have never been able to stomach the Braves, even though they have a consistently excellent team. My baseball loyalties are not based on statistics.
In a burst of self-discipline I have just paid off and closed three out of six credit cards. I am left with my beloved Nordstrom charge account, one Mastercard, and one Visa. That's it for personal credit. Of course, one card is maxed out, but I owe relatively little on the others so I'm feeling a touch of righteousness. It won't last beyond the next paycheck, but give me credit for doing the right thing with my yearly bonus. It means I'm not going on a cruise in January.
The weather is overcast, which makes me think, even after years of living somewhere other than Seattle, that it must be cold outside. Ha ha. This is October in northern California. It's not cold, it's merely foggy. If I bundle up in a wooly sweater it's sure to turn sunny and warm later in the day. Heck, if I drive a few miles north or south it's likely to warm up, because chances are it's only foggy here in Palo Alto.
The sad thing is the weather patterns fool me all the time. I still expect September to mark the start of the rainy season and the coming of cold weather (although I no longer associate it with school, having been out of school longer than I was in it). In fact, that's when the weather usually gets sunny and warm. I really miss the possibility of snow at Christmas. I can't get excited about the only sport I ever liked, skiing, because the closest slope is a four hour drive. (Also, I am now approximately 98 metric tonnes heavier than the last time I skiied and I suspect the experience would be humiliating.) Spring is when I expect the days to start being consistently fine. Alas, here it's the rainy season. Spring always bugs me, anyway. I don't like the indeterminate nature of the season. I like autumn best, then summer, and winter is a good season if the weather cooperates with some snow. I particularly like Christmas, but it seems sort of wrong to have palm trees decorated with seasonal ornaments. When it comes to the weather I am a firm traditionalist.
In the time it took me to write that paragraph the sun has come out. Figures.
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