Monday, October 6, 2014

A Few Thoughts on Autumn =)

So.  Autumn is here!!!!

It arrived at our house precisely two mornings ago.  

I walked outside to greet the day, rub the sleep out of my eyes, and pop my back (don't ask), when suddenly. . . Holy crap.  It's kind of . . . cold.



This is my favorite season.  I love it.  LOVE IT!!!  Love everything about it.  I can even tolerate all the Football happenings, because hey--- it means Fall is here!!!

So I have compiled a brief list of what Autumn means for our household.  

Here are the items, in no particular order:

ITEM ONE:  Take your Pumpkin Spice ELSEWHERE

I'm not sure WHEN, exactly, the pumpkin spice flavor became synonymous with Autumn, but I'll just tell you right now:

I do not care for it.

No, I do not want pumpkin spice in my latte.  

I do not want it in my food.

I would not drink it with a bum, I would not drink it in my rum.

I do not want it in the form of a food, a drink, or even a scented candle.

I do not CARE for pumpkin spice, you see.

(Not even in pies.  That is how serious I am here.  Not EVEN . . . in PIES.)

It is gross.


. . . it's PUMPKIN!!!  That's like. . . a GOURD!  (I think.  Pretty sure.  Not willing to bet the farm on it, but still. . . pretty sure.)

In my mind, the flavor "pumpkin" has been placed into the same file as "mango", which is to say:  noun, meaning 'bastard fruit'.  see also:  UnAmerican.

You wanna enjoy your gourd-flavored frappucino while you cozy up in front of a fire while enjoying the toasty warmth of your Uggs?  Go right ahead.  

Just keep that crap FAR, FAR from me.

ITEM TWO:  My birthday is this month!

I'll be another year older!  HooRAY!!!

. . . wait.  


Seriously, I used to REALLY look forward to this time of year.  As a child, yes, it was mainly because my birthday fell toward the end of the month, and I spent weeks and weeks and weeks doing birthday present calculations: 

. . . would I GET a kitten, if I didn't ask for anything else?  . . . was I WILLING to trade all my other gifts for one kitten?

(Answer:  I SO was.  I wanted a kitten.  Badly.  And the year I finally got one, I remember making quite a campaign of it.  I petitioned.  Hard.  Pretty much all year long.  
. . . I KNOW that it was all year long because my birthday is in October, and I remember being REALLY disappointed when I did NOT find a kitten in my Easter basket that year.
. . . It probably would've suffocated under the bright yellow cellophane wrapping, but. . . I WANTED A FREAKING KITTEN.)

Now I'm old, and I could have a MILLION kittens, if I wanted.  But for some reason. . . that no longer sounds like 'living the dream.'

So at this point in life, a birthday just means that I get to get older.

And maybe some dinner at an Indian restaurant.  

(I guess I can't discount either of these things as mundane or trivial. . . how many people out there are going to be denied another birthday?  . . .OR a really decent Indian dinner?  No, I am happy with my lot.)

. . . I actually had to ASK my mom a few weeks ago:  

"How old am I?  Am I about to be 38?  Or am I already 38?"

I really couldn't remember.

. . . this is depressing me.  

Why was I excited about this?

Next topic.

ITEM THREE:  It is now that magical time of year when I get at least 2 - 3 months of watching my husband NOT pretend to faint every time he opens our power bill.

Can we be real for a minute?

I wish this particular item lasted longer than just a few months.


But I guess the fleeting nature of Item Four is what makes it so precious, right?

Autumn arrived at our house on Friday morning, at perhaps 7 a.m. (to the best of my knowledge).  And I think we turned off the A/C at about 7:08 a.m.

No more A/C needed!!!  HooRAAAAAAYYY!!!

Now we're on the cusp of that fantastic season where the inside of our home is only cooled by the occasional ceiling fan, and feeling a bit chilly can easily be cured by picking up one of our MANY afghans or snuggy throws.


And, as previously mentioned, there is the added bonus of NOT having to witness my husband's theatrical shenanigans every time he opens the power bill.

We live in Alabama.

Summers are HOT here.

Yes, that is a really expensive power bill.

No, you are not having a stroke.  

. . . or maybe you are.  I don't know.  Follow the bright light, I guess?


(Sidenote:  I caught my husband looking up videos last night about how to heat a room using only a few tea lights, a muffin pan, and two clay flower pots.  I am afraid.  I am very afraid.)

ITEM FOUR:  It's time to start thinking about HOLIDAYS!!!!

And by "holidays", I mean a couple of things.

First and foremost, it is almost Halloween --- my FAVORITE holiday!!!!

We are upon that wonderful time of year when I can walk into any Dollar Store in the country and find EVERY Halloween-themed decoration, plastic tumbler, coffee mug, or pair of witchy socks that my black little heart has ever desired.

And this makes me VEEEEERY happy. 


And I will CONTINUE to wear said witchy socks all freaking year long.

I will wear them around the house, and I will wear them out in public (even though, realistically, they match absolutely 0% of the clothing I currently own).

***Sidenote:  I have always had peculiar tastes and ideas when it comes to fashion.  The first idea being:  Whatever is the softest and most comfortable MUST therefore be the cutest.  

(. . not always true.)  

And the second idea is:  Socks don't matter.

They are for fun.  Just to keep your feet warm, and to help you slide them into your shoes.  

This has resulted in my wearing mismatched, or HEAVILY themed (and visible), socks to everything from Thanksgiving dinner with the family, to work (back when I did that), to the ultrasound for my son (. . . back when I did THAT).

(Also?  When we were waiting to get the ultrasound?  A lady in the waiting room mocked my socks.  Like, openly.  She was sitting two or three chairs down, nudged her friend, pointed at my socks (POINTED!!!), and made a weird face and giggled.  It took me a second to realize that. . . she was mocking me.  

For my socks.

And I was pregnant at the time, so naturally I considered walloping her with my purse so hard that her face permanently froze like that, and at the same time ensured that I'd be picking her teeth out of the secret compartments in said handbag for months to come.  . . . but then I realized that my socks WERE weird.  Tacky Valentine socks around December, I think.  And, when you wear socks like that, with an otherwise "normal" outfit. . . I guess you've just got to be prepared to be mocked by the narrow-minded, the dim-witted, and those that simply do not know better.

So I did not kill her where she stood.

I wanted my son to grow up to be a pacifist.


. . . it didn't take, but I tried.)***

Also?  Sweet-baby-Jesus-in-a-barn.  It's time to start thinking about Christmas.

I NEED to start thinking about Christmas RIGHT.  NOW.

I need to start thinking about which gifts I could buy, and which gifts I could make by hand.  And the handmade stuff, I probably should get to work on RIGHT.  


And the store-bought gifts?  I should probably start looking for those, like, 18 seconds ago.

But I won't.

I know me, and I know I won't.

One thing at a time, is what my brain tells me.

Go eat some candy.  We'll talk after Halloween.


ITEM FIVE:  My hair knows it's Autumn, and has officially given up.

It's the most astounding thing, really.

I went to bed on Thursday night with springy, lively, air-dryed curls.  And on Friday morning I woke up with lifeless, limp-as-a-dishrag, waves.

IT KNOWS.  (. . . how does it KNOW???)

So the halcyon days of getting out of the bath, finger-combing out the tangles, adding a little conditioner, and letting it dry by itself are now officially over.  Time to drag out the hairdryer and actually "fix" my hair again.


What is my hair even DOING???

ITEM SIX:  Everyone is just going to have to start peeing inside, okay?



My Took has been potty-training for a while now.  (It has been an exercise in patience.  Or Chinese torture methods.  Pick one.)

And, while he HAS made GREAT strides when it comes to going in the potty. . . his FAVORITE place to pee is in our back yard.

I dunno.

Something about the freedom, maybe?  The wind in your hair as you pee on the earth?  Testosterone?  Getting back to your primal roots?  He hates his father and wishes to punish him by peeing on his lawn?

Whatever the reason, he LOVES it.

And so do the cats.

Thankfully, we have a fenced-in back yard, and thus our neighbors are not forced to witness all this manliness in it's full glory.  

. . . Pull-ups tossed to the breeze as he runs to find a good "spot", his brother screeching hysterically at the unseemliness, and sprinting in the opposite direction . . . because HE lives in the city, and this isn't something they DO there, apparently.  

(Sidenote:  As it turns out, Pad has every right to run from Took when he's in Tinkle Mode.  There was an "incident" this weekend.  . . .and then they both got baths.  That's all that needs to be said.)

ALSO thankfully, we have a big enough back yard that there are places for both boys and cats to go, without our Great Outdoors smelling like The Toilet of the Gods.

But the weather is getting cooler, and so all of that glorious lawn-watering is going to have to be redirected.

To the potty, and the litter box, respectively.

My goal is to have everyone house-trained by Christmas.

. . .and the sad thing is, the really BITTER thing is, that I know. . . I JUST KNOW. . . that someone out there, SOMEWHERE, is having an easier time toilet-training their cat.