Where I come from we get something like three-ish months of summer, which equates to MAYBE a meager 30 days of warm sunny weather- picnics, watermelon, fireflies, swimming and sandy flip flops.

 

In short, we have ONE summer month and… the REST of the year.

 

Eleven months of the grey season, which includes but is not limited to rain, drizzle, snow, ice and every other possible form of precipitation currently known to man.

 

 

 

 So yes, when people (lets call them psycho-holiday enthusiasts) try to contaminate our sacred sunny month with Christmas pollution we tend to get a bit crabby.

 

 

Justifiably crabby.

  

  

I for one, happen to be a solar powered individual.

 

 

I get my energy from the sun and my reserves happen to be dangerously low these days.

 

The makers of Prozac can only do so much.

 

They’re like, “You’ve reached your limit lady… our hands are tied.”

 

“Go get some mood enhancing sunshine.”

 

 

 

And, so I do what I can. I soak in every single moment of summer.

 

The problem with winter-related holiday nonsense (no, I will not say the C word again) is that it’s like kryptonite for us who reside in the grey area.

 

The mere mention of the dark side during our sacred sunny sabbatical is enough to boot us out of our happy place clear into the fiery pits of hell, except in OUR hell, it’s snowing.

 

 

 

Resisting winter is a northern defense mechanism that’s been etched in our brains since the ice age.

 

To top it off, we broke records for cold AND snow in 2013.

 

I think we did. It felt like it anyway.

 

That’s my story and I’m sticking with it.

 

It sucked Frosty’s longest hardest icicle if you get my drift, then to top it off, we shattered all previously set rainfall records.

 

It felt like it anyway… the record breaking part.

 

 We did, however experience actual flooding.

 

Also, we made the big time meaning we were featured on The Weather Channel.

 

 It was definitely a How-many-Yeti’s-can-you-fit-on-Noah’s-ark? kinda year.

 

 Nobody really cares what the answer is.

The point is- when Yeti’s and Noah’s ark are mentioned in the same sentence you’re clearly fucked and there’s not a damned thing you can do.

 

Mother Nature is one moody bitch.

 

As a result, my people (those of us who reside in the grey area of CNY) have morphed into foul-weather warriors who’ve proven again and again that we can tough that shit out.

 

However, uninvited winter holiday hoopla in July tends to drive some of us right. over. the. edge.

 

For the publics safety we’ve established guidelines called…

 

The Northern Survivalist’s STRICT Winter Holiday Timeline.

 

Halloween– the fright fest officially begins Sept 30, although mums and pumpkins may be put out any time after Labor Day. (Note- generous leeway given, because I happen to be a mum fan)

 

 

 

 

 

Thanksgiving shall occupy the time period between Halloween and the C holiday.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The C holiday– not one bell shall jingle or hallway be decked prior to the conclusion of turkey day feasting.

 

This means the dishes are washed, dried and put away. Also, the turkey carcass is gone. I freaking hate the turkey-beast carcass with ever fiber of my being.

 

I would rather get a root canal than harvest meat from the leftover turkey any day of the week.

 

Make that two root canals and a pap smear.

 

(I threw that thing in there about the dishes, because I don’t care for the C holiday and I’m trying to keep it away as long as possible. Scrubbing a zillion dishes gives me a little breather)

 

Let’s call this- living in the goddamned moment.

 

Quit racing around like blind mice on meth preparing for the next three-ring circus that’s six months away.

 

Relax.

 

Breeeeeathe.

 

If you must shop or bake cookies in July, that’s your business. Just keep that premature holiday pollution off my facebook.

 

Also, I’ll be happy to taste your cookies.

 

I’m generous like that.

 

I may be a holiday bitch, but I’m an excellent taster of cookies.

 

Unfortunately, there’s nothing we can do about greedy in-your-face retail peddlers who prematurely puke holiday what-nots throughout the land.

 

Winter holiday whatchamafuks will start polluting stores in August.

 

It’s the devils way.

 

Not only do I look the other way. (and say bad words) I also refuse to buy anything.

 

They’re not getting one premature cent from me until The Northern Survivalist’s Strict Winter Holiday Timeline says it’s time.

 

When I wander into Home Depot on August 15th in search of charcoal briquettes and get blindsided by a 12 foot blow-up of Frosty-the-freaking-unwelcome-snowman, I will breathe fire.

 

 This actually works out, because then I dutifully scoop Frosty up in a plastic cup and have something to chase my chocolate vodka with.

 

Hence, the only acceptable snowman in August is the one you drink.

Cheers…