Fall

Instead of going to the Labor Day parade with my dad, John and I are going to celebrate the American worker (sadly, I can no longer claim membership in that category of people) by going to a matinee.  Inception starts at 1pm.  Then at 4:30pm, John's fantasy football draft begins.  So while he's commishing it up with the other leagues in the online draft (I already pre-selected my draft picks), I'm going grocery shopping with my mom at–you guessed it–Fred Meyer!  Hopefully, this time she won't be accosted by a man in a yellow star costume in the middle of the road.  We eventually figured out that it was an overly eager Carl's Jr. fast food chain mascot who jumped in front of her car while she was driving away from her last shopping expedition.  She was more confused than anything.  It's so hard keeping up with these modern times.

I feel like there's something more important and fall-centric that I should be doing, like berry-picking or hiking Angel Rocks, or canoeing down the Chena.  Oh well, I can always accomplish those things in the next few days before winter sets in.  My dad likes to begin each morning by taunting my mother that it smells like snow.  Earlier today, she was sitting at the dining room table looking out the window at the yellowing birch leaves, announcing each leaf as it fell to the earth.  There's definitely a sense of, not resignation, not anticipation, but a kind of resolve in the air.  People are nesting, preparing, buckling down ... friends ask each other what their plans are for the winter, like there's this tangible thing looming just over the horizon that we all need to be ready for.  It's difficult to adjust to a world of welcoming winter when it's been 80 degrees and still summer in Seattle.