Technically, it’s been Autumn since the last week of September, even if “Autumn” and “Summer” are not all that different in Texas, but last night, standing on the deck, waiting for the dogs to do their business before bed, I exhaled into the darkness and saw my breath hanging in the crisp night air.
I live in a world of personal landmarks. It is not officially cold, or officially Fall, no matter what the calendar says, until I see that first visible breath. The Christmas season does not begin, in my house, until after the sighting of Santa Claus at the end of the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade, and weekends are measured not in what I’ve accomplished, but in how many books I’ve finished reading.
The onset of my personal Autumn, however, is the beginning of my favorite time of year, for while I do not enjoy serious winter, of the type experienced north of here, at all, I do like warm-ish days and chilly evenings. My ideal weather is when the mornings require a sweater, the afternoon is warm enough for shirt-sleeves when you’re in the sun, and the evenings are cool enough that comfy pajamas and a mostly-decorative fire are not uncomfortably warm.
Comfort weather.
Today, on the first day after the arrival of the first of this year’s Comfort Weather, I spend much of the day sleeping in a cool, dark room. A double-dose of Midrin killed the migraine that was brewing, but made me dizzy, and tired, and since I needed to mull over an article rewrite, spending a day with just myself and my dogs was definitely in order.
Although when, at 12:46 pm, I realized that Fuzzy had not, in fact gone into the office, but had chosen to work from home, I offered to make mac-n-cheese for lunch. I mix tuna in, for protein, and it doesn’t come from a box, and while it may be organic, it’s still unhealthy, but oh, so good. I sat outside in a warm breeze and listened to the birds chasing each other through the trees while I did so.
Then I did some email work, took another nap, did some more email work, took a bubble bath, and decided I was hungry, and that more comforting kid food was in order. I have a fridge full of gourmet food, including the makings of a lovely spinach and mushroom French pizza (which isn’t French at all, but feels that way - no tomato sauce, just grated gruyere, baby spinach, etc.) and what I wanted more than anything in the world was a peanut butter sandwich and chocolate milk.
And while, as a kid, it would have been Skippy and not organic peanut butter, the bread still would have been multi-grain, and the milk still would have been chocolatized with Hershey’s syrup.
Sometimes, like comfort weather, kid food is just what you need.
It’s no secret that I love inclement weather, as long as it’s rain and not snow. Even cold rain. I just don’t do “serious winter.”
It should be obvious then, that I’m excited about the weather projection shown in this image. Now, please understand, as much as I want that rain to be “scheduled” and not merely “predicted,” I’m most excited by the projected overnight low on the last two days being below 70 degrees.
99% of the time, The Weather Channel isn’t something I even remember we have. I mean, how often do I really need to know what the weather is like in Atlanta?
When there’s a dramatic weather event, however, I enjoy TWC’s programming. Right now, the buzz is all about our friend Hurricane Gustav, currently a Category 4 storm taking a trip across Cuba. Tomorrow or Monday, however, it’s likely to pick up speed thanks to the lovely, lovely warm waters in the Gulf of Mexico.
I’m watching news about evacuations going on along the gulf coast, and while I feel bad for people who have to go through it, I’m also excited. Why? Because a bad storm in the gulf means that we in the D/FW metroplex are likely to get some rainstorms that are heavy enough to cool things off, but not so dangerous that we need to be horribly concerned for ourselves.
I know, I know. It’s sick and twisted to think that way.
I woke this morning to a sky that was just beginning to cloud over, and two dogs who were begging to dash outside for their morning business. They came in much sooner than I expected, and when I looked outside to see if there was an animal that might have scared them, I noticed fading rain drops on the porch and picnic table.
The sky, was still predominantly blue, however.
Ten minutes later, the blue had been replaced by thick grey, and thunder was rumbling in the distance. I love thunderstorms. They invigorate me more than even the best coffee sipped at the coolest cafe. I may be a fire-sign (Leo) but water is my element. I am LEO hear me…splash!
There’s something especially magical about a summer rainstorm. Even when you live in a place where it rains frequently, warm rain is special, and freeing in much the same way that running through sprinklers is. It touches the kernel of childhood innocence in all of us.
Rain and thunder, to me, are as musical and inspiring as any symphony, and as accessible as any pop song, but when you combine rain with music? Sheer brilliance.
I’ve been in a blue funk for most of the week, though I came out of it for a bit last night during an unexpected thunderstorm. There was brilliant lightning and intense rain, and though the storm itself was here and gone within about 45 minutes, it was a refreshing change from sun and sun and more sun.
Fuzzy mentioned today that he has to pop down to Boca Raton sometime in July, which has me thinking about Orlando vacations. I’m not really a Disney fan, but I’ve never been to Epcot and the last time I was on a Universal Studio tour was in California when I was twelve.
What I really want, however, is the beach. The wind chimes sounded much like the clanging of ship’s bells during the beginning of the storm last night, and I sat on the deck and listened to the water sloshing in the pool and pretended I was somewhere coastal.
I don’t want to live in Florida, but we live too far from the beach right now - lakes do NOT cut it - and this must be fixed.
All day Tuesday I felt as if I were trying to move through viscous liquid, both physically and mentally. Greenish glowy viscous liquid. Sort of like aloe gel but without the skin soothing effect.
Of course, in reality I was just tired and a little crabby, and not in the mood to work, and yet, I finished everything I’d planned to do, and managed to enjoy an afternoon of dark skies and rumbling thunder punctuated by the odd flash of lightning and softened by a steady, soaking rain.
We may or may not get more rain today, but even if we don’t I think I’m in a better mental place than I was all week.
I wrote another chapter of a fanfic today, and I’ve worked out some issues with the NOVEL so I know how to fix them, and just need to work diligently so I can have lots of time for personal writing this week and weekend.
Sometimes, the difficult days are the most rewarding.
If Dick Van Dyke were to show up singing “Put on a Happy Face,” and dancing through my living room, I’d probably have to kill him today. Why? Because my head and back are so sore I feel like I’m dying of mesothelioma or something. (I’m not, of course, I’m just being melodramatic.)
I went to bed early - well, earlier than usual - with a clear schedule and every intention of making up for barely sleeping at all on Tuesday night, only to be rudely awakened around 3:45 by tornado sirens, Miss Cleo barking, and gale force winds and rain pounding at the windows, and Zorro Dog shrieking in distress.
Zorro dove under the bed, which is his version of sticking fingers in your ears and singing La La La to avoid hearing something unpleasant. Cleo, on the other hand, decided that when I went out to change the temperature (it was too cold) on the thermostat, she had to go stand at the back door and beg to go out. “It’s raining and icky,” I told her. “You don’t want to go out there.” But she did. And she DID. For all of thirty-seven seconds, which, by the way, was long enough for her to get completely soaked.
We came back in, but then I had to use the bathroom, and then, in the process of going back to bed, I caught my foot in the laptop cord, and sent it plummeting to the ground, and THEN Zorro came out from hiding and HE wanted to be soothed.
Got back in bed. Got situated, with enough room for both dogs while still having covers and not pushing Fuzzy out of bed. (Anyone who thinks chihuahuas are fragile, btw, has never slept in the same bed with one. An eight-pound chihuahua is perfectly capable of pushing a full-grown human out of bed.) Was almost asleep when the annoying ring of Fuzzy’s phone sounded.
He had a work issue. He went upstairs, I turned out the light (again) and went back to sleep, and just as I was reaching that lovely state where you feel like you’re tumbling into a lovely cotton-filled abyss, he came in the room. “Are you coming back to bed?” I mumbled.
“No. I came to put clothes on. This problem’s gonna take a while and it’s cold.”
“Oh.” I looked blearily at the clock. “Make the alarm later. It’s set to go off in half an hour.”
“Okay.”
Tried sleeping again, but head is pounding, pounding, and dogs are snoring, and pillows suddenly completely wrong shapes and degrees of softness.
And what? Me? In a mood?
Am trying to decide if I should just get up, shower, make oatmeal, and curl up with a book to wait for FedEx, or if I should re-set the alarm for 8:30 and try for a bit more rest.
