The sky is weeping. Very unusual for Los Angeles, but I can't say that I'm complaining. It's been nice to have a break from all of that sunshine and to wear my Hunters once again. They've been waiting patiently for some good splashing.
Throughout the city, lamp post decorations tell me it's Christmastime. I don't believe them, not quite yet.
In an attempt to feel a little more festive, I found this magic:
I suppose if I were to get out of town and head towards the mountains it would help me realize that it is indeed December. Big Bear or Mammoth would be lovely. I'm also dreaming of a tiny solo day trip to Ojai (pink sunsets!) or my favorite, Palm Springs. Here's to hoping I can retire there and live out my days as a lounge singer in one of their octogenarian-approved piano bars. Either way, it's about time to rent a convertible, grab my uke, hit the spa, and not think about a single thing.
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