I want fall. I want FALL! I FUCKING WANT FALL!!!!
Rudder thinks I
should suck it up and stop complaining. He says I should pretend this is summer
and enjoy it as perfect summer weather (which, in fact, it is) and "stop paying
attention to labels". Rudder also thinks skydiving is the most dangerous thing
he's done to date.
He is very, very wrong.
Today I
stopped by a farmer's market and tonight we're going to a college football game
(ASU v. Oregon State) and these experiences, I just know, would be greatly
enhanced if I were wearing a sweatshirt. Instead, I show my alumni pride, as well
as my muscular shoulders, in a little camisole-style top printed with the name of
my university, a completely inadequate substitute for being THERE, walking down
Locust Walk in 64-degree weather (I just checked), shuffling through the first of
the falling leaves and smelling the unmistakeable scent of fall. (Which, it's
sadly true, would in that case be mingled with the scent of west Philadelphia, not
a great additive to the bouquet. But still.)
I am still here only
because I can't pry Rudder away from the place. And now because of the job I've
taken, I'm here for another 18-24 months, after which I will begin looking for
opportunities (within the company, if I still like them as much by then) in a
climate that that encourages sweaters (but that stop short of frostbiting exposed
noses. No need to overreact.)
And if this hasn't been the most
eloquent entry ever, go read LA expressing similar feelings much better
href="http://la-the-sage.diaryland.com/021010_10.html">here.