Normally, when September 1st rolls around I am breaking out the fall wreath and trying to restrain myself when I see pumpkins at Kroger's. I move stuff around on my mantel and put out my cranberry colored bedspread. I start to think about chili and meatloaf and homemade bread. Because September 1st means that it is almost over, the unbearable humidity, humidity that you can only imagine if you live in the tropics, the heat that bites and the mosquitoes that drain (and kill)--all of these things are about to end and I break out the corduroy and rejoice.
But not this year. This year, despite its many meteorological pitfalls, I have loved summer. Well, not loved, but really enjoyed. Maybe it's because the last true two weeks before Annabelle's school began were eaten up with a sick baby, or maybe it's because I am getting older and appreciate every season more--it doesn't matter. We have about 9 days left and we are trying to savor it.
this is something they have invented called the spitting game, where the drink water and then, well, spit it at each other
monkey do
all wet
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