Turn, Turn, Turn

It's finally, really autumn. Took its sweet bloody time getting here, I'm tellin' you now.

For Bast’s sakes, it’s two months late. Usually, by this point in the season, I’d be travelling back and forth to Jen and Oni's via our underground tunnel so as to avoid the frigid night air. There’d be a quilt on the bed underneath my toasty goose down duvet. I’d be sleeping in thermo socks. Yes, I’m a New Englander. Yes, I should be rock solidly inured and even happy about the cold. Like so many of my neighbors, I should be wearing shorts until the first snow (or so) and giddily anticipating ski season.

I don't and I'm not. //shrugs// Love where I live but I've the cold loathing soul of a Northern Cal type babe.

Despite afternoons warming up, often, into the 60s, mornings are chill city. Half the trees have lost their leaves. The other half have yellow and orange dead soldiers clinging to them like bad hairpieces on an old clueless presidents (or spandex to a cyclist’s sleek form). The sun sets at 4:30 now and soon it'll be deep dark at that hour. *piss, moan, kvetch*

I broke out my sweaters only to to find a mondo chasm of unravelment in the elbow of my favorite one. Is this salvageable, mendable? I rilly, rilly hope so! When I was a kiddle, sock darning was one of my jobs. Does anybody darn socks anymore? Can sweater elbows be darned or should I go full metal professorial leather patches? If so, how would I do that? Sew them on? The Amazing Bob would know. He should be here.

Another autumn thing – the chilly weather stokes my appetite somethin' fierce. I'm hungry ALL the damn time or so it seems. As yet, I've not fallen totally off the diet wagon but I’m on the fucking ropes. I’ll snap out of it – I will. This morning I have my Deep Core Water aerobics class. It’s obscenely difficult to psyche myself up, don a bathing suit and step into that cold pool water. Once in and bobbing about though I'm so very glad I did. Mebbe I'll start on the stationary bikes – build up a little heat before stripping down.

Then there’s my precious warrior kitten. She’s got some poor mousie on the run this morning. ’Tis the season when outdoor beasties get chilly and move inside or try to. I just get the occasional doomed mouse, a bold stray cat and the odd B&E rockin’ raccoon, not bears. I imagine the big fellas would be mondo disappointed in my fridge's sad, scant contents.

We obnoxious human types keep colonizing and destroying the wild one’s homes. They’re adapting and so should we. Live and fucking let live. Ya know?

Also too, it's voting day. VOTE!

Turn, Turn, Turn – The Byrds