We've really been enjoying a spectacular August, as I mentioned the other day. Very few miserable days, very little rain, hardly any high noons that make you feel like a Poppin' Fresh Grands being baked by a novice cook who thinks the key to quick biscuits is "the hotter, the faster."
Normally at this time I am dying for fall. It has not meant "back to school" to me in decades, so I no longer have that "fall = suck" sense that many kids have---no, young'uns, eventually that goes away because the misery of work does not take a break for summer, by cracky. Normally I desire September because I'm sick of being melty like cheese on a Pizza Hut commercial.
But I haven't been this year, and I'm certainly not looking forward to shorter days. Then, yesterday, the humidity crept up and the thermometer followed behind, and suddenly August felt like August. And I'd prefer everything felt like June again. Failing that, I'll take September.
My mother always advised me never to wish my life away, which is good advice, but when you're six and it's a WHOLE WEEK until your birthday, it's hard not to wish that week could go on fast-forward. I try to be more patient now. Especially since I know that coming right behind that refreshing autumn is...
My mother always advised me never to wish my life away, which is good advice, but when you're six and it's a WHOLE WEEK until your birthday, it's hard not to wish that week could go on fast-forward. I try to be more patient now. Especially since I know that coming right behind that refreshing autumn is...
...blarg.
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