one last meal

One last moment on the porch. It’s officially fall.

Autumn has officially arrived. It’s cold and dreary and sun-breaks only lead to highs of 60 degrees. It’s hard to complain when just a week ago, on the “official” start of the season it was a balmy 91 degrees here on the coast.

Ok, actually, it’s pretty easy to complain. Especially when you find yourself about a half mile into your workout only to have the heavens open up and dump icy rain your direction. Yeah, and your sweatshirt is one of those, “HEY, WATER. Let’s absorb!” kinds and you’re little hands are turning purple from the cold.

I did not turn back, I got the full circuit in–but not before I made the Universe blush. Seminary taught me to swear and I put my education to good use this afternoon.

So, yes, I’ll complain. Vociferously.

I knew fall was coming— but you know that didn’t stop me from procrastinating. I’ve neglected to take our woolens in to be cleaned for ages. Like, since when we took them off at the beginning of summer. What, TMI? So, today I ran IZ’s wool sweaters into the Dry Cleaners and the woman behind the counter said, “You don’t need these right away, do you.” Notice that wasn’t a question? I swear, she tried to use the force on me. (considering where I live, this is to be expected!) I am impervious and I answered, “Uh, actually I do want them back quickly. Have you noticed the weather?”

Apparently, it’s their practice to have your dry-cleaning take a week. If you want it sooner, you have to ask. No extra fee is involved, but you have to be in the know. I have no idea if this is a standard practice elsewhere since I gave up wearing clothing worth dry-cleaning when I started sporting Eau du Baby Spit-up 12 years ago. So, for the past four years I’ve been shivering my bootookus off waiting a week for my wool coat to come home. My wool coat being the one dryclean only thing I refuse to give up. That will teach me to not  procrastinate wear wool. I lie. No it won’t. But I might try to convince IZ that he really doesn’t look so great in his j.crew woolies and shrink them down for the kid.

Dang I’m lazy.

Hey, you would be too if the heavens opened up and dumped ice down your backside.  Like my bootookus wasn’t cold enough already!

Anyhow, it’s  been a week of deaths. I dumped the red hair for less red hair. We covered that yesterday. Thanks so much for all the lovely comments about the new color. You sure know how to flatter a girl. I’m liking the darker color and the red highlights are probably a good thing considering my complexion. I hope y’all got that I was being sarcastic about wearing my hair half covering my face. I mean, I would do it, except I have a hard enough time walking with both eyes exposed. I probably need a disclaimer on this blog, “Yo, Wende is about to get sarcastic on your *beeeeeeep*”

I’m also going to have to dump our dead microwave. The thing just UP AND DIED during the morning mocha ritual. Yeah, jokes on the appliance tho—cause my uber sophisticated, kinda professional, ITALIAN espresso machine will be here on Friday (It’s coming UPS, so feel free to interpret Friday as Tuesday) and I won’t need no stinkin microwave to heat my milk. I hope.

And then I killed the tiny little video player I use to watch scary things like True Blood and Gossip Girl. I blame netflix for this. They have started adding a sticker on their discs. This makes the disc thicker  and that requires more pressure to get the disc to sync up on the machine when you put it in to play.  Evidently, the constant pressure has built to a stress fracture and the whole turning unit dohicky just went “thud.”  And I have half a mind to include a little note in my returning Envelope that reads, “DEAR Netflix, you broke my tiny little video machine with your thicker sticker. Now, I must watch sappy movies with no swearing or gratuitous sex because  I can’t watch scary things on the big screen. Thanks for that. Thanks alot. Love, yours truly. Wende”

So, it’s official. Summer has left and fall has arrived. Let the whining and ridiculously long blog posts commence.

You’re wishing it was still summer, aren’t you? Join the club.