Pale September... I wore the time like a dress that year. The autumn days swung soft around me, like cotton on my skin. But as embers of the summer lost their breath and disappeared, ....all my armor falling down in a pile at my feet,and my winter giving way to warm...
Yes, it is finally September. As the nighttime temps seem to be habitually landing in the mid- to low 60s, I turn my face happily toward Autumn - my favorite season. A season when Mister's allergies finally get a small bit of reprieve, a season full of beautiful colors, incredible scents (they already have the cinnamon pine cones at Superfresh!) and shorter days through which to squint. A season when the spiders in my basement, theoretically anyway, should leave me to do my laundry in peace, rather than sending Mister down to make sure they're not waiting to eat me and then freaking out halfway through loading the second load into the washer because a new, not-dead, spindly spider is creeping up the wall only a couple of vulnerable feet away. If you'll wait a moment, I need to go ask Mister to switch the loads now...
Anyway, to celebrate the new month, we met up with my parents for lunch today. Okay, actually, it was completely coincidental that they were in town today and it just happened to be the first of September. Regardless, we met them at Cooperage, outside the Curtis Center, and I finally got to sit at the wood veneer tables in those neat black wicker booth benches with orange cushions. Normally, the orange and black combination makes me think of Halloween, but for some reason, with this place it just makes me think of manly men who drink bourbon and how masculine I fancy myself sometimes. I'm probably going to regret writing that.
I got a veggie burger with sweet potato fries - yes, sweet potato fries! This was a very exciting moment for me. Unfortunately, they were not nearly as tasty as the ones I've had out west. At this point, it may be a power of suggestion kind of thing. The veggie patty was okay, but since Mister's squooshed out in every direction, I just ate mine with a fork. Not very manly of me, I'll admit. Then again, neither is this drink:
That's my Bumboo Punch and it had something like 5 different fruit nectars in it. It was strong, though - despite the many competing fruit juices, I could taste the rum quite distinctly. It was a fun lunch - our water was served in mason jars with handles and our sandwiches came in shallow metal pails. I'm not totally sure what that was about, but it definitely added to the whole Early 20th Century vibe the place had going on (which was exactly why I chose it).
Nevertheless, after sitting in the sun for about an hour and drinking that tall, fruity, rummy drink, I was ready for a serious nap when we got home. Instead, Mister and I had a pot of coffee.
Isn't that pretty? Mister bought me that tea-cup a few years ago and his mom got me the saucer for my bridal shower. Normally, I just display all of my antique tea-cups (and saucers, of course!) on my china cabinet shelves, but I thought to myself today, "What's the use in having pretty things if I don't occasionally use them?" So I pulled that pair off the shelf, rinsed them off and had my coffee in pretty china. That made Mister smile at me.
This makes me smile. Actually, it makes me smile and giggle a little, too. It never stops being funny to me how I can make Leftover Molds. I told Mister I didn't want to make Lasagna tonight because we still had so much Jambalaya leftover, so I heated up the three pounds of leftovers for dinner tonight. It didn't taste any different than the first time, but it sure was more amusing, slipping out of the Gladware and holding its shape like a little Cajun Bundt cake made with rice, vegetables, and seitan.
