Had lunch with the Bosnian refugee family my mom has “adopted”. They’re really nice people, although there was a pretty significant language barrier. Why is it that children who were raised by non-American parents seem so much better behaved than those born and raised (and coddled and spoiled rotten) here? I guess I may have answered my own question…

 

Tonight, we headed next door to my aunt’s house. No badly behaved brats to complain about here either. I was relieved.

 

Christmas Day. Gifts this morning and long drives this afternoon. My dad’s side of the family came over tonight, then I headed out to the Palms to hang out with Jeff and several ex-mistakes from my past, all of whom I managed to avoid.

Highlight of the evening: watching “King of the Hill” with a distant relative who could easily have qualified as a cast member.

 

After the festivities, we made the traditional drive downtown and around the city to see the lights. For all its bleakness during the day, I have to say downtown Greensboro came across pretty well when “wrapped” for Christmas.

 

So here I am, about to spend my second Christmas in a row at home in Greensboro.

Sitting in the waiting area with 90 minutes left before my flight. What a crazy 24 hours it’s been. I realized last night that I wouldn’t be receiving my ticket in time to make it home for Christmas. So one was sent to me on a plane from Charlotte at 11:00 this morning. I grabbed a $30 cab to the airport after doing ALL my Christmas shopping last night. I’m exhausted. And mildly hungover.

At least there’s cute boys to look at here. Most of them cuter even than the guy I chowed down on last night at My Place. He was cocky and shot all over my head and face. The onlookers were pleased.

It’d be nice to have a laptop on this trip, but I’m Ok using pen and paper for a week or so, although it’s a little strange getting used to writing prose in longhand again. I seem to be unsure which of my 7-8 different handwritings to use.

It must really suck traveling with children. I often wonder if I was as bad as rugrats today are. Actually, I think children were better behaved when I came along; parenting was more about teaching discipline and responsibility than “self-esteem” and “creativity”.

Scored First Class on the flight. It’s worth it!

Signs of Christmas in the City:

• Embarcadero Center looks like four hugely disproportionate Christmas presents and the Transamerica Pyramid looks like an oversized tree.
• Driving down Fifth Street near Market is something only the bravest among us will risk.
• The absence of crowds due to Christmas parties and people leaving the city actually made the Hole in the Wall Saloon bearable last night.
• Telegraph Avenue in Berkeley was closed off today so that all the people who scorn materialism and commercialism could make a quick buck selling T-shirts, crystals, and a plethora of strange-smelling items.
• The ratio of Christmas songs to other types on Muzak and KABL has finally hit 99-1.

Note du jour: a recent look at a cheap Spanish-English dictionary finds “Hanukkah” defined as “Christmas for the Jews”. I’ll let this one stand on its own…umm…merits and close with it.

It is absolutely freezing cold here, or so it seems. Mind you, it never really gets all THAT cold in San Francisco; I doubt the temperature has fallen below 40F (4C). But in colder climates people have a miraculous thing which is lacking here: HEAT.

You’d be amazed just how hard it is to find heat here. The place I work doesn’t have any at all, the logic being that the machines generate a sufficient amount. My apartment has one under-powered gas blower which keeps the ceiling of the hallway toasty warm and wouldn’t dare intrude on any of the rooms.

This lack of warmth is everywhere, from restaurants to stores to bars to buses. I’ve spent nights in drafty old Victorians which made me long for the warmth of a snow-covered house back east. I’ve bought clothes in department stores without trying them on just because I couldn’t face being naked in the dressing room.

This could be why San Franciscans seem to get one cold which starts in November and lasts until March, never really getting very serious, but always lurking under the surface. Colds here are just like the weather: chronic, never acute.

But in a few short months, we’ll be warm again. The temperatures will climb, and — of course — no one here has air conditioning either…