...and I'm not going to wax nostalgic about how the crisp fall air reminds me of open carriage rides with my parents who then made us pumpkin-spiced tuna fruit tarts while we watched old episodes of "All in the Family."
No, instead I'm going to talk about how it's the one time of year where I find cold air acceptable and, indeed, preferable to the hot sunnery of summer. And also about butternut squash soup and hats and jackets and new television shows.
And especially fucking Pumpkin Butter from Trader Joe's. Which I have eaten plain obviously, on toast with cream cheese, and with a chocolate bar. AND TONIGHT WE ARE PUTTING IT ON S'MORES. Rob can thank me for that stroke of genius.
When people ask me what my favorite season is, I usually say summer. Because summer is awesome and sunny and awesome. But seasons are like music genres--summer is pop music, fun to listen to and dance to but mostly an indulgence. Fall is classic rock, like CCR or the Rolling Stones. Not always great for a night of wild partying, sure, but it's got soul and never fails to make you feel absolutely fucking awesome.
No, I don't care that I've said "awesome" about 70 times already in this post.
Spring is obviously easy listening, along the lines of Frank Sinatra. Winter, of course, is Christmas music until December 26th, after which it's mostly a 5-month long funeral dirge.
Pardon my tortured metaphor.
Anyway, there are few pleasures more...pleasurable? I guess?...than sitting on a patio, no bugs, cool air, a sunset, pumpkin-spiced s'mores, favorite person by my side, and a crackling fire. Or huddling inside with Robbie's woobie (Army poncho, so warm) drinking hot cocoa while a cold rain falls outside.
Fall, you can come to my house and into my bed any time.
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