Falling Back, 53. November Blues.

After a couple of days of sunny weather, the clouds are back. Yesterday, despite the sun, was quite cool, and a vegetable soup was in order. Today, the wind makes it feel colder, and a nice chicken stew was bubbling for lunch earlier. 

It seems protests have begun, and attempts to stop counting votes, as well, in the United States. Trump has asked for injunctions against continuing counting votes in several states and for a recount in one, at least. It's heartbreaking to see how democracy in the U.S. has devolved.

Here, we prepare to pass November without being able to go everywhere we want, and with bars, cafés, and restaurants closed in the hardest hit urban areas. Undoubtedly, there will be more closures when winter, and the virus, is done with us. That is tremendously disheartening.

A little more enraging is seeing photos in the online newspapers of the King's nephew, Froilan, going out on the town with a bottle under his arm, on his way to a binge drinking fest with his friends, maskless. That kid has always felt his privilege and acted on it. He (and his sister) is one of those annoying rich kids who take what they want, and do what they want, just because their mummy and daddy have money and a Name. Perhaps another reason to be rid of a monarchy.

For the rest, this is November, and I have always hated it. When I was a little girl, there was Thanksgiving, but it was never really a favorite holiday. All it consisted of was cooking the large turkey my father's employer would give him, and then sitting to eat it, and the potatoes my mother would put in the oven with it. The good part of it was the stuffing my mother made for it, and then being able to nibble at something in the fridge for days afterwards. 

When I lived in Boston, there would be the first snow days, which made it more bearable, but here we only have rain and days that gradually grow smaller and colder. Even the leaves don't change, except for a few oaks and chestnuts. The rest of the trees in the hills are pines and eucalyptus, and stay dusty green all year.

Though, with everything going on this year, I am inclined to welcome that boredom and simple suffering of an uninteresting part of the year. We are already living in times that are too interesting. 

Life continues.