For the last three years I've attended Burning Man, which takes place the week prior to Labor Day. Each year, I am always surprised that the weather at home turned cold while I was gone. I leave for the event when it's 89 degrees out, and I return home to 72-degree weather. Some call this time of year The Fifth Season, and if you look over on that handy navigation bar on the left there and click to the 2002 entries, you can find a prior writeup on that.
I'm always disappointed when the air gets this chill in it. I like the warmth and humidity the summer air holds; I like the way the sun brings out my freckles, I like the carefree attitude you're allowed to adopt in the summertime. I don't get sick of it. I loved living in Arizona when the weather options were "hot" and "fookin' hot." That's how I roll, yo.
But reliably, just like the cool breeze greeting me when I clap the playa dust from my clothes, I find the Eddie Bauer autumn catalog in my mailbox waiting for me when I return home. The images of people carrying picnic baskets in some Cape Cod-esque eternal autumn setting, wearing cranberry-colored knobby sweaters, mid-calf skirts and knee-boots make me crave apples and pumpkins and fall spices. It makes me want to grab a cute boy and smooch on a hayride while snacking on ginger snaps and dark chocolate. I want to stick the white tips of candy corns to my upper canine teeth and pretend I have tasty-sweet fangs. I want to fill my apartment with the smell of homemade apple crisp (I make a mean apple crisp, yo), and I want to hike where I can see the leaves changing color. I want to hear the brass section of the high school marching band practice from two miles away on the crisp evening air. I can practically taste my trumpet mouthpiece... the combination of metal and Blistex, with the smell of valve oil.
As long as the temperature promises not to dip beneath 55, I'm happy.
Every fall, I vow to do more autumnal activities. We'll go on a hayride! We'll do a haunted maize maze and get chased by a guy in a ski mask wielding a chain saw! We'll go to a marching band competition and drink hot chocolate! I'll hand out candy on Halloween to de chirren! Yet, I never do. It's too cold, I don't have anyone to go with, my costume is stupid, my socks are too loose, blblblblththththththhhxrp.
Speaking of costumes, this year I think Matt are gonna be The Tick and Arthur. I think Matt would look hiiii-larious in a giant blue spandex suit, but also because it's just an excuse for me to wear bug goggles and antennae. Y'all may think I should be Carmelita, but bite me. I want to be a Jewish moth, and that's final.
Matt is very Tick-like, isn't he? He's huge, he wants to be a superhero, he can lift heavy things, he spends a lot of time on rooftops, he uses kinda quirky phrases ("interesting side note..."), and he's a big ol' softie despite his gigantor exterior. Hmm!
|Fortune Teller Miracle Fish today tells me that I am: somewhere between In Love and Indifferent. (We've got a moving tail and a slightly twitchy head.) The story of my life. :-)|