The holiday spirit has been a long time coming this year. Shopping doesn’t count. I’ve been doing that (and liking it) for the last few weeks, but I haven’t been indulging in my usual sentimental maundering, at least not so far. There hasn’t even been much Christmas music playing on the big box, although I haven’t been deliberately avoiding it. I haven’t done any decorating or baking. (Baking. That’s a good one.)

Things picked up a bit today, especially when I had coffee with a friend who has that spirit year round. (Well, not really. That would be too much. But it’s close enough to the truth that it feels like the truth.) And the last package from my online ordering spree arrived this afternoon, so I really am finished with my shopping (probably). (Actually, I probably don’t have much choice, given the money situation.)

And my satellite radio stations are nudging me toward the inevitable. The Forties channel stuck Perry Como singing “It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas” right between “Buttons and Bows” by Doris Day and “Too Fat Polka” by Arthur Godfrey. I think they’re trying to tell me something. (I think they’re trying to tell me to switch back to The Loft, which is playing Paul Simon’s “Father and Daughter.” (Come to think of it, that song is almost enough to put me in the spirit all by itself.))

The weather isn’t helping my mood, that’s for sure. I know it’s not supposed to be summery in December, but this is still supposed to be California, no matter what time of year it is. The sky was gray all day, and then it got grayer. It was dark, it was cold, it was North Dakota. (Okay, it wasn’t North Dakota, but it wasn’t the North Bay, either.) I need to see some sunshine this weekend, or the small start I have on the season will evaporate like last year’s eggnog.