For the last two years I have had Thanksgiving at my in-laws in Florida. There is something so wrong about eating turkey then sitting on the beach. No icy rain as in Chattanooga. No hot chocolate by the fireplace. No regrets about not raking the leaves off the steps before guests arrive to eat. Both years I've been taken by the Christmas decorations in South Florida. Somehow reindeer on still green grass, wreaths on the front of yachts, lights wrapped around the trunks of palm trees are bizarrely incongruous. This year I sat by the pool as my daughter swam and watched the condo association decorate the pool area. If a Santa went by on a jet ski it would have been a nice touch.
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