August.

I went out last night to celebrate my sister's birthday. She turned 31, and I'm not sure how that even happened, since she's younger than me and I certainly can't be older than 27. Still, we went to this hole in the wall bar Cody's that, strangely enough, I've been to before (this girl gets out, um, never) and sat out on the back patio and drank and socialized and attempted to keep my sister's dog Carly in check. At one point, we got all nostalgic and were talking old movies. I brought up The Boy Who Could Fly (one of the best movies ever) (or at least I remember it that way), which led to mentions of Powder and I Know My First Name Is Steven, which I think was made for tv. So then we started talking about our fav old tv shows. The Hogan Family came up. The Hogan Family? Does anyone remember that? We couldn't remember if Valerie Harper's character had been killed off or not, but certainly remembered that Sandy Duncan had replaced her as the aunt. Then, of course, we talked about her glass eye, and if Sandy Duncan's Glass Eye isn't a band name, it should be. This particular conversation ended with a rowdy sing-a-long of the Perfect Strangers theme-song, which is the best theme-song in the history of theme-songs.

None of this is important.

There's that part in the evening when the group splinters and conversations get smaller and more intimate. This may have something to do with the alcohol, but I can't prove that. Anyway. My friend Mandy and I were talking about fashion, how July 5 is the kick-off for back-to-school in retail, and how neither of us were ready for wool.

One of the things I love most about living in the Midwest is the change of seasons. Every year is different, of course. Our summer started late this year, and last winter seemed to last forever. But we generally get all four, and I love it. Love all of them. Except the beginning of fall makes me nervous. I've always felt this way. Once in autumn, I'm fine. In fact, I'd say it's my favorite if you made me choose. The changing leaves, the crispness of the air, the cooler temperatures. I love wearing sweaters, love browns and oranges, love the transition from grill to soups. But the end of summer is tough. Because it feels like the end of freedom. The end of staying up late, of sleeping in, of days laid out in front of you filled with possibility. It signals the start of school. And I don't even go to school anymore, but I can't shake that tension, that anxiety. I don't know that I ever will.

Mandy said it best, "August is like a month of Sundays."

Truth.

Listening to: outside sounds

xo. kb.