I dunno. It took me a long time to get used to spending Christmas in Socal even though I've been doing that since I was 16 years old. But after years of walking on the beach with my family when the sun comes down like diluted drips of honey water, I did get used to it. It had something to do with the tide pools, something to do with the weather, and something with how much I love my family.
Thanksgiving in hot weather is strange enough for me. I mean, I've never spent a Thanksgiving where the frozen turkey would have thawed if you left it on the sidewalk. Okay, so I don't eat Turkey. But the point is, it's hot enough outside (92˚ F for those of you that are metrically challenged) to bake the whole meal, stuffing and all.
But maybe this is what holidays are really supposed to be about as you get older: not necessarily seeing your whole family (though that would be nice, as would tide pools), but being more open to who your family is. If you'd told me nine years ago that I would define family as living in Buenos Aires with the woman you love, and the dog that you treat as your daughter, I would have laughed at you. But now, this all makes sense to me.