I'm sweating as I rush into the Starbucks, dying for an iced coffee on our way to the pool one last time before school starts tomorrow. Standing in line, going into autopilot, reciting my "Reasons Why You Can Not Have a Cake Pop Before Lunch" speech, I notice the woman in front of me is wearing Uggs and orders a Pumkpin Spice Latte. Record scratch. A what? I look around me. There is a cartoon of the Headless Horseman drawn on the the menu board, the ice cube decals advertising cold beverages that used to dot the windows are gone. They have been replaced by signs for the PSL, Pumpkin Spice Latte, now given an acronym for its tenth anniversary.
Oh, September. You again?
Don't get me wrong, I like fall as much as the average person. Bright, crisp days, apple-picking, pumpkins, beautiful, fall foliage, cider donuts - those are all pretty enjoyable. Especially the donuts. It's the horrible transition month of September I hate with the firs of a thousand suns. It seems the minute the calendar turns from the eighth month to the ninth, we are supposed to forget that just a few days ago we were still on the beach and throw on a wool sweater.
Maybe it's not September's fault. Maybe it's where it falls in the change of seasons. With the other seasons there is a gradual transition. Fall to winter is heralded by dropping temperatures and the gentle falling of leaves, a bit at a time, until the limbs are bare and it starts to snow. We throw on an extra layer, but we were already pretty chilly in fall, so there's no great gnashing of teeth. Going from a PSL (I might assault the first person not employed by Starbucks to use this abbreviation - you have been warned) to a Peppermint Mocha doesn't seem that big a change. Winter to spring, the crocuses slowly push their way out of the ground. We can watch the snow melt knowing warmer days are coming. Holidays like St. Patrick's Day and Easter get us geared up for the next season. Tired of rich, winter fare, foods like asparagus and fava beans come into season giving us a taste of green. Spring to summer, the world gets greener and more vibrant, school is winding down and we look forward, with anticipation, to unscheduled days by the pool. Produce abounds and we enjoy it all.
But Summer to fall? Summer to fall is like someone turning on the lights at the end of the party. You were all drunk and having fun and now it's time to go find your coat. September takes the blame for flipping the switch, I suppose.
The weather in September stinks. One day is sixty-five degrees, the next is ninety-five. We all want to act like fall has officially begun and jump the gun with sweaters and boots. It's as if we get one fifty-eight degree morning and we all pack away our shorts and t-shirts. Even when the first day of school is sure to be a scorcher, my children will try to persuade me into letting them wear long sleeves, and maybe even a sweater. Apple picking, a favorite September activity, conjures up images of scarves and cable knit sweaters, does it not? Then we go wearing said items while paying for the privilege of being migrant workers, only to lose ten pounds of sweat weight. My closets and drawers look like a rummage sale gone awry as I pull out a few warmer items for the kids out of the attic, but can't put away their summer clothes either. I always feel a little bit cold or a little bit hot the entire month like I'm the Goldilocks of weather.
The food also stinks in this betwixt and between month. Come fall, we have all had our fill of burgers, hot dogs, and other barbecue foods. Turning to my recipe file, I consider things like stews and roasts and, of course, on the days I have planned to cook those dishes it's an inferno outside and the idea of chili repulsive. And what is in season in early Fall? We are weary of tomatoes, zucchini and corn, but roasted butternut squash just feels wrong. And why, whyyyy, does every edible food item become available in pumpkin flavor in September? They are making Pumpkin Spice M&Ms and Pumpkin Pie Spice Pringles. Although, I must be among the vast minority of humans who think artificially pumpkin-flavored foods are about as appetizing as vomit. The only thing that should be pumpkin-flavored is PUMPKIN. Along with sarin gas, this artificial flavor should be considered a chemical weapon.
Of course, you all know I hate back to school, the New Year's Day of September. The relaxed atmosphere of the Mean Mommy household evaporates like water off a beach towel come the first day. The superstores prematurely try to kill my buzz in August with their clever commercials. No matter how funky the school-band version of "Push It" was, my kids and I ran from the family room with fingers stuck in our ears to avoid the idea of summer ending. The schedules, the forms, the meetings, the school supplies. Maybe if I had paid attention to those commercials I wouldn't get stuck in what looks like the bank run scene from It's a Wonderful Life at my local Staples.
In a few weeks, my disdain will ebb. The weather will make it less ridiculous to crack out the Luke Skywalkers and I will begin lighting cinnamon candles in the house. But right now, with the laundry still carrying the lingering scent of sunscreen, and beach sand still making its way out of our shoes and luggage, I can't picture it. Maybe my summers are too good. I don't want to let them go.
The idea of drinking anything pumpkin-flavored, though, still makes me want to gag.
No comments:
Post a Comment