Last night, I went to S house for Christmas dinner. I arrived in the midst of children unwrapping their extensive Christmas booty. The whole experience was out of a Norman Rockwell painting. S's family had a lovely large spruce, with a model train running along the base. Four generations sat by a roaring fire, as the family just sat in the living room exhausted by the whole days activities. We did what one does on a holiday, eat too much, talk to relatives, take naps, eat some more and watch a little tv. As we sat in the living room, after dinner we chatted, I mentioned to S's sister my love of the hippie organic products. G, S's brother in law, thought it was amusing and said " you can take the girl out of California, but not the California out of the girl."
S's family is from West Hartford a leisurely, hour and a half drive from my apartment. A long drive for people on the East Coast, the commute to work in California. I enjoyed my drive down, catching up on my CD club mixes.
It has been a balmy 45F (7C) this past weekend. So on the drive down I saw something you normally not found in the inland: FOG. Snow and accumulated ice from the frigid days before were evaporating in the sudden warm weather leaving puffs of dense white fog on the roads. On the drive back, it both rainy and foggy. Cars on the interstate were crawling at 40mph. Drivers seemed confused by this odd weather. For me it was like any other winter day in San Francisco. 45 and raining, and on the highway seemed exactly right for Christmas.
Apparently G forgot to mention, "not only can you not take the California out of the girl, but California (weather) will follow her wherever she goes."
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