November 1 and All Is Okay-ish

It's November first and I have committed to writing a ridiculous number of words. Why, you didn't ask?

I have no idea. I think I miss writing.

Here's what I do know. Sort of.

It's transition time. It is mid-autumn. Halloween is over. Thanksgiving and Christmas are on the horizon. The days are getting shorter. The time is going to change. Mornings will be brighter, but night will fall so much earlier.

This is Davey's time. He loves the shortening days, the lengthening nights. He could easily live without the sun. If I could ever get him to get a DNA test, we'd probably learn he's got a bit of the Land of the Midnight Sun in those genes. Even when the sun is out, he's holed up in his cave with the shades closed and maybe, just maybe one lamp glowing. He's a vampire without the fangs and cool clothes. Can a DNA test pick up a vampire gene?

Meanwhile, I'm scurrying around, trying to convince myself this is all fine, I can handle the short days. I crave the serenity of the long evenings where I want to be in bed by 8pm and there are enough candles to keep a semblance of hygge if I embrace it. 

Is it okay to drink decaf loaded with milk and sugar at 6pm? Is it time for me to finally conquer that rommegrot recipe? If I'm going all in with the hygge, I'm indulging in the sweets, I tell you what.

Halloween has been stowed away for another year. Goodbye spiders crawling up the exterior wall, the giant web, the ghosts hanging from the front porch, and all those delightful vintage Beistle cutouts. You pumpkins, gourds and mums can stay. 

And yet it's too soon for Winter decor. I mean, I still have to tidy up the garden and put my tender plants under cover so I'm not ready for winter. And what is winter decor anyway?

Well, if you look at my Amazon cart (yes, I'm a big part of the supply chain and economic problems), it's some kind of mashup between Nordic and lazy. Pinecones, a Rookwood ceramic tree, a macrame thingy, and da-da-da- CANDLES. 

What was I saying? Oh, yes. Decor. Okay. Okay. It's not decor. It's slapdash, whatever my mood is, what I can afford with a few dear pieces thrown in. I keep telling myself that I should get rid of the thrift store finds, and antique store purchases that no longer speak to me. A lot of what I need to get rid of (read: donate) are a lot of those mismatched, no joy-giving Christmas decorations we've collected along the way.

I have a glass turkey. That'll hold me through December. The turkey has no choice.