Also, yes, I realize that it's not a proper noun and doesn't call for a capital letter, but for me, it's a big deal.
Because I LOVE SUMMER.
I love flip-flop tans and backyard BBQs and and wearing white pants and swimming in the lake and listening to the crickets while I fall asleep and backpacking under big storms of swirling stars and watching the garden get crazy with tomatoes and dinners outside and firepit bonfires and lots of shit that only really happens in the summer.
And then it ends. And I become sad. Because I know my flip-flop tan will fade. Beach sand will be vacuumed up and disappear. Windows will close out the sounds of outdoors. I'll have to hold the umbrella over the dog so she'll poo in the rain.
Basically, some things will start to suck.
But before you get all, "What about skiing and pot roast in the crockpot and rainy weekends watching Archer re-runs with Bubba?" and shit, let me tell you that I'm working really hard to pretend I love Fall the most of all the seasons.
Because it makes me hate the passing of summer less and lets me not ruin the forthcoming winter for Bubba, because that is HIS favorite season and there's nothing suckier than having someone around telling you how miserable they are when you are blissfully happy.
Like I would be if I were all, "UGH. I can't believe summer's over. Stupid winter. Stupid cold weather. Stupid snow. STUPID. *Frown face*"
Meanwhile, he's trying to keep from exploding with happiness because we're that much closer to the first snowflakes flying in the Sierras.
SO - that means I'm loving up on Fall.
Sort of. If by "loving up" you mean "lying to myself continuously while quietly planning a winter escape to Hawaii".
That's a lot like loving.
Also, eating BBQ every single day until it's gone because WHOA did Bubba make a lot of it this weekend for our Labor Day bash.
|Thankfully, Frankensmoker was up to the task of smoking what appeared to be the brisket off a whale shark.|
|Also, all these ribs.|
|Plus these ribs. And beans. OH THE BEANS.|
|This accounted for 1/3 of the ribs we made.|
|Yeah, I could probably eat all these alone. If you gave me a week or two.|
|This barely scratches the surface of the brisketness we smoked.|
|Maximum capacity on the 9 quart pot means good times with BBQ beans.|
So, yeah, I'm expending a lot of energy right now being all OH, at least I can wear my boots again and maybe I'll take up a new knitting project or sign up for a fall race in order to keep from whining constantly about how I'll never see the sun again since The F Word is coming.
Because after The F Word comes The W Word and EVEN WORSE - The H Word.
I won't even go into that now. It'd ruin all my pretending and I'd inevitably shift into full rant mode and since I'm feeling so balanced and not rage-y thanks to my hippie vitamins, I'll save that rant for another day when we're closer to the Most Ugliest Time of the Year.
Though quick update on the whole vitamins situation - THIS SHIT STILL WORKS. Yeah - we're going on 9 months with the daily Vitamin Feast and I've only had two migraines.
Why did I get two migraines and not ZERO? Fine question. I have no idea.
Perhaps there are other things out there in the world and my life that impact my migraine status. Perhaps someone hit me with a ball peen hammer while I slept. Perhaps they were In The Back of my brain inventory and had to be trotted out for an End of Season Sale. I have no idea. I had them, I took Imitrex for them and they went away.
I think the last one was a few months ago.
But I've been taking my vitamins and supplements and capsules of mystery gel every day like a good little hippie and I don't wake up behind closed eyelids with fear in my soul because WHAT IF I HAVE A HEADACHE.
Instead I wake up and realize that I can't wear my white shorts anymore so I guess I'll just throw on these boots and call it good.
Did you get that? I tried to go full circle on this post, but I fear that I failed.
Eh - it happens.