The feeling of the first day of September is always
what I imagine turning 50 will feel like.
It sneaks up on you like a little jerk
and then you have no choice but to greet it with handsome
amounts of destain and denial.
I'm there right now.
I'm cursing under my breath at every social media mentioning of
"sweater weather and pumpkin flavored everything!"
Every advertisement for apple cider and every email
from a professor is met with the meanest of mugs
from yours truly.
It's not fall, dammit! It's still summer.
That's my equivalent of saying
"I'm not over the hill! I'm young and super fresh!"
And instead of buying a sports car,
I ran to the farmers market and buried myself in summer fruits
and made some damn popsicles.
Because if I'm eating popsicles, it can't be fall, right?
These aren't just any old fruit popsicles.
They are winey boozy popsicles.
Because what goes best with destain and denial?
Wine and booze.
They are essentially white summer sangria on a stick.
If you can't get down with that, you
are super un-American
and also, probably a robot
and your demon creator forgot to insert your "good taste" chip.
Raise your pops, ladies and gents and let's all hold off on riding the
for just a few more precious moments.
Here is a tiny playlist to take you on
the emotional roller coaster
begining with joy and ending with ugly-crying to Don Henley
that perfectly embodies this sad descend away from
another beloved summer.
Until the next, cats.