10.14.2002  

Every year I spend at least three months complaining about how miserably hot it is. (Of course, in Roanoke, that's more like four months, and not so much miserable. I'm a wuss.) Such complaints begin to include comments like "It is OCTOBER for crying out LOUD. We are DONE with summer, people". Then, every year, that day comes when I walk out into the sun, cheerfully sans coat and usually wearing flip-flops, and promptly freak out. "It's COLD. No one told me it was going to be so COLD. Look, my toes are turning the same color as I painted my toenais- FREAKING SILVER". This is my world today.

And, really, it isn't that cold. This is Virginia we're talking about. For 18 years of my life, I was in Michigan. So why, oh why, does 55F suddenly feel like 35F? See, the thing about Virginia is that it doesn't know how fall works. The entire purpose of fall is to ease you into winter so that, by the time you have snow, you're perfectly fine spending hours outside, skiing and whatnot. (Don't get me started about how Virginia messes up the whole snow thing.) Michigan does fall beautifully. A bit early, mind you, but perfect. You start feeling at the end of August, just in time for school. All those shiny new school outfits you bought? You can wear those on the first day. You can also wear sandals and shorts and not get into a ton of trouble. Best of both worlds, right there. By about mid September, you don't feel like cross country practice is going to kill you and you need to wear a jacket after dark. October is in the 50-60's, consistantly, and there's frost on the grass in the mornings, here and there. By Halloween, you may or may not have gotten a taste of snow. It's a weird year if you haven't by Thanksgiving. So what if winter sort of starts in mid November? At least you're ready for it.

Here, it's in the 80's until October, and then one day, 50. And it tricks you. Today? Perfectly sunny. At least in Michigan, you know that once it gets cold, you probably won't see the sun again until, oh, May. The leaves all freak out and just die. No pretty gradual color change. Just falling deadness. It's all relative. In contrast to 70 or 80 degrees, 50 might as well be 30. Seriously. So, here I am, finally getting the weather I wanted, and all I want to do is hide in my bed with the heat on and never, ever come out again. I think God is telling me to stop complaining about summer.

I think the Florida people are about to bomb my comments with jealous hate mail.

Appologies for lost comments. We are experiencing technical difficulties. They were really good comments, too! ::blushes furiously::

Ok, prepare yourselves. Sick and tired of not being able to host graphics and desperately wanting a new design, I have shifted, for the time being, to my Angelfire account. Granted, you will have to deal with a pop-up ad, but all in all, it'll do for now. I swear, this was not an attempt to copy the other redesigners out there. This is actually the second or third design I've gone through in the past few months. Enjoy!

Hero of the week time. Or month, depending on when I remember to update.

This week, we feature Don Auto Tech. (Yes, that's exactly what it said on the window) As luck would have it, Don's shop was connected to the BP station that I limped my car into after the exhaust pipe started dragging before I had even made it into Ohio. Also, not 24 hours after my dad bandaged yet another point on the exhaust system.

"Ok," I breathed, "I have no money to fix this now and still have to drive to Virginia today. Can we just wire it up or *something*? Is there anything you can do?"

Don looks under my car thoughtfully, then replies. "I wire it, 10 dollar."

SOLD! I was even going to offer 20. I would have given him 20 had I not needed the money so desperately. So, up my car went, while Don went into the back and produced two wire coat hangers and metal cutters, wiring my pipe up under the car. Because of Don, I made it to Roanoke by 8:30pm last night.

Consequently, my car is getting a new exhaust at Christmas.

Thank you, Don Auto Tech of Saline, Michigan.

My prayer is that everyone takes the time to intellegently listen to their political leaders. Listen to what they say. Think about it for a while. Reflect on it. Don't just react to sound bites. Understand what the entire speech is designed to make you feel.

I wish I had counted the number of times Bush said "terror" or "terrorist" in is address tonight. I've never felt so ill, like someone was using my fear to win their support.

But, you know, we don't *need* Dave Barry to bring the funny. We always have Sars!

'I love the gingerbread latte at Starbucks. I want to marry the gingerbread latte at Starbucks and make an honest coffee out of it. The gingerbread latte at Starbucks is better than crack. It's so much better than crack that even crack itself is like, "Hey, I'm just crack. That shit is caffeinated crack -- with whipped cream on it. Game over, man."'

Go. Read. Crave fall weather as badly as Sars and myself.

I'm all about Dave Barry's ability to bring the funny, but this is really beautiful:

On Hallowed Ground

" . . . or you could just yell loudly into the machine."

"SAAAAAM!!!!"

Heheeeeeeeee . . .