Fall is nothing to sneeze about

I'm staring bleary-eyed at this white box, thinking that if I type something here, that when I return to typing something in that other document, currently known as CP V2-v2-Chapter 3, the letters will magically coalesce into cogent coherent sentences. Is it weird to use too many words that start with co? I'm not even sure I know what cogent means. It sounds like a cross between codependent and sergeant. Huh. I can tell my brain is mush. I can hardly type, and what I am typing makes no sense.

Impoverished? Who, me?

Yesterday in my post I said I thought it wasn't fall yet, that it was just that pesky ocean air cooling everything down, making it seem like summer is over. Well, I think I was wrong. I mean, I think I'm right. I think summer is over. This morning it was so cold in the Love Shack, I had to resort to drastic measures: sweatshirt, winter slippers, and of course, the ubiquitous stocking cap and fingerless gloves (formerly known as socks). With an orange, red, and yellow striped afghan (knitted by my indefatigable and possibly color blind mother) across my knees, I spent the day intermittently typing and sneezing. That is how I know it's fall and not just onshore flow. I'm sneezing.

Some people sneeze when a cat comes near. (I used to. Luckily that is not a problem anymore, as I eat, breathe, and poop cat hair.) Some people sneeze when they eat certain food, like paprika, wheat, milk, or chocolate. My mother sneezes three times after she coughs. Some people have dinky sneezes; other people roar like freight trains. My dad's sneeze sounded like a lion claiming his bit of beach at the savanna watering hole. Rrrrowrrrr! My cat has a polite sneeze, sort of like Boof! He always looks askance at me when I sneeze, because my sneezes are anything but polite. During the change of seasons from winter to spring and again from summer to fall I sneeze a lot, in all directions and on all frequencies. There's nothing dainty about my change-of-season sneezes. I'm a why-just-say-it-when-you-can-spray-it kind of gal.

So, I'm here to tell you, just because it's 80° during the day doesn't mean it's not fall here in the Pacific Northwest. Don't be fooled. Dust off your heater. Pull out your flannel sheets. Shake those lousy bedbugs out of your comforter (juuusst kidding). The nights are cold. The tomatoes are going to have to hurry if they want to be red by the time the cold rain comes. And it's coming, I can feel it. We may have a few more 90° days, but the nights will have the damp chill that sends out-of-towners home with pneumonia. I have that urge to burrow in, to hunker down, to pull the mittens on my frigid hands and the wool over my bleary eyes, and hibernate until next July. Wake me up when winter is over.

Excuse me, I feel a sneeze coming on.