The Universe has thrown me another swift kick in the pants – one that I’m afraid not even my many superpowers can overcome.
I mean, seriously…WTF???? It’s the very first week of September, for cripes’ sake! Kids aren’t even back in school yet! I mean, I still haven’t had my fill of the beach. I haven’t even had one really good sunburn yet! (Yeah, yeah, yeah, SPF, blahdeblahdeblah…) I haven’t gone camping yet! I haven’t eaten so many raspberries that I’ve wanted to puke yet! Summer fling? Barely begun!
It’s not that I have anything against fall. I don’t. I love fall.
It’s winter I despise. I hate wearing socks. I hate being cold. I hate falling on my ass on icy sidewalks. I hate the ridiculous heating bills. I hate all the car accidents (I’m an emerg dispatcher, remember. Winter SUCKS for emerg dispatchers.) And really, fall is just a stepping stone to winter.
So I found myself on my hands and knees the other day, digging around under my bed and in the nether regions of closets, desperately trying to remember where the hell I chucked all my cold-weather gear. Just in case. It’s Nova Scotia. It could start snowing tomorrow. Or we could be wearing shorts into November. Who can friggin’ say?
This search took far longer than it should, because at the end of every winter, my brain does whatever the brain does to people who have been deeply traumatized, women who have given birth, etc. It forgets. I go into complete and total amnesia about the existence of winter. It’s like it never happened. My mittens could be anywhere.
I did, however, manage to find some of my snuggy stuff. Like my Cute Boots.
*HEY! I forgot about cute boots!*
Burgundy faux suede, knee-high, with laces up the front. I feel very…Sherwood Forest when I wear these boots. These boots are so cute, it dawned on me that my au natural look from the summer may not work, so I momentarily postponed the mitten hunt in favour of trying on my many, many lipsticks. I mean, the seasons may be inevitable, but one can always be prepared.
The winner? A suitably deep, sultry shade of red called ‘Mulled Wine’ by Revlon.
*HEY! I forgot about mulled wine! Mmm….cinnamon and cloves and booze….*
The smell of wood smoke on a dark afternoon as the sun begins to set early. It must be a primal thing. (Deep down, I’ve always nervously suspected I have some cave-woman throw-back genes…but that’s another post for another day.)
Of course, that reaction to the smell of smoke is surely connected to food, right? ‘Cause winter’s looming presence demands that we start nesting and cooking. Yeah, even me. (I know. Relax, it’s only temporary.)
*HEY! I forgot about stew and soy-chicken pot pie and vegetarian chili!*
I’m sure my panic attack is premature, though. I mean, the leaves haven’t even started to turn yet.
*HEY! I forgot! The leaves are gonna get pretty!*
The leaves generally don’t turn until it gets closer to Hallowe’en.
*O. M. G!!!!! I FORGOT ABOUT HALLOWE’EN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!*
I have to go now.