It's twelve degrees out and there's snow everywhere. Christmas commercials have officially begun their incessant advertising and local shops are already getting into the holiday spirit.

And yet it's not winter.

This time of year has always confused me.

We get snow the first of November and though we have Thanksgiving, a major holiday, we seem to breeze right through it in anticipation of Christmas.

But what confuses me more is that according to the calendar, it's still fall.

Wait, wait. It's fall? How can it be so when it looks like a picturesque Winter Wonderland?

Since it looks like winter but is still technically fall, I have decided to call this transitional period "winterfall."

It's the best of both worlds and it sounds an awful lot like Game of Thrones "Winterfell."

Anyhow, my closet is also in turmoil too because as much as I want to slip into those sparkly holiday tops and chunky Christmas cashmere sweaters, I know it's still a wee bit early, yet far too cold for autumn attire.

Maybe I could petition to make it an official season, provide us Alaskans with an appropriate set of clothes. 

Who wouldn’t want a fifth season? Another season means another set of clothes, which means bigger wardrobe. And who wouldn’t want that? 



Easy Like a Sunday Morning.

There are three things that I respond to best when it comes to waking from my slumber.

The first is obvious: coffee. Specifically, the sound of the espresso machine whirring to life downstairs.

The second: breakfast. In this case, it's either the scent of somethin' cooking, or a text from my mom alerting me of a hot plate waiting downstairs.

The third: Fudge. This morning, it was the sound of her licking my plastic trash can and then jumping up to find a spot to cuddle, which ended up being on my tummy. Those precious purrrrs rumbling against me were just what I needed to rise and shine.

This morning, I had the pleasure of all three of those things waking me up.

It's been my second day in a row of sleeping in and I have to say, I am relishing this simple pleasure. No alarm to alert me of a time to start my day, big body stretches in my bed (like in the movies), and a leisurely pace at which I get ready for my day.

Man, I need to get my weekends off more often!

In any case, my morning was that classic Lionel Ritchie song: easy.

Complete with crusty eyes, coffee, eggs and bacon, long bed-head hair (don't care), and one of the fluffiest coziest robes I have ever had the privilege of wearing (thank you thank you Long Tall Sally), it was just the type of Sunday morning I had been missing.

Whether you consider Sunday to be the end of your week or the start of your week, if it's always done so with ease and contentment, then I'd say it's good either way!

That's why I'm eeee-asy, easy like a Sunday morning...


Getting a little blustery out there...


It nearly cost me a ward-robe malfunction!