They tell me today is the last day of summer and tomorrow is the first day of fall, and again I think I've gone and missed a whole season.
Although, to be fair, I spent much of it wrapped in a sweater and I only recall one or two times when it was genuinely hot, and one of those times was before we had air conditioning and a few friends came over and sat outside with us in the sun and we all sweated and drank sangria.
I was probably supposed to do something to acknowledge summertime. Go on a hay ride? Go to the beach? Pick fruit? I don't know what happened. June-July-August-BAM, I hadn't been out in it, soaking up all of the summerness of it.
We had a death in the family in April and I know it's not just me who's been dazed and confused again since then. Again. Again. Some people never get off track -- there are things they just do every day, every month, every season, every year. We know we're not like that, but we're going to convince our children that we are. We will. They mustn't acquire our fog.
I asked friends a couple of weeks ago: When can we decorate for fall?
Last year I did not decorate for fall. The night before Halloween we scavenged near-empty bins in the grocery store for pumpkins, most of them rotted. There are deals to be had the night before Halloween on pumpkins, but then you'd be like me, foggy and not getting things done.
A friend says she plans to start this weekend, which could work. It is supposed to be 96 degrees on Sunday and my fog won't let me decorate for fall until it's cloudy and the leaves are turning, and if I'm being honest, I will probably plop a couple of pumpkins on the porch and call it done and done.
What should be done to acknowledge the fall? An apple harvest, a grape harvest. There is a family in Utah that goes every Sunday on a drive to look at fall color -- they are probably not familiar with my foggy way of existing.