A Chill in the Air

It's 6:30 a.m. on a Tuesday and I'm sitting on the couch with an open window behind me and thinking, "Dang. I'm a little cold."

And tired. Wyatt!

But back to the cold thing (because whenever I think about the tired thing I realize that in a few weeks we'll be setting our clocks back and then we'll REALLY be in trouble with the early waking). Anyway: cold. All of a sudden it feels like fall. It's had to believe that just one week ago, we were doing this:


Elise and Ethan both did great on the wakeboard

Forrest, of course. Good picture, no?

This one's Uncle Tony, showing off his mad wakeboarding skills. I like the hand placement. It's like he's saying, "What?!?! I'm just hangin'."

The booooooyyyz. (And Aunt Cindy's left eye.)

And Jonas. Jonas decided to have a "dry day" at the lake, which was fine. It was a touch chilly--the dang wind!--and Mom had a dry day too.

So that was Labor Day (thanks Tony & Cindy and Mom & Dad for making it so fun) . . . and now it's fall. We're in the thick of homework and early rising, soccer and Children's Choir, and Ethan's starting up with flag football here soon. Did I mention that I pulled Elise and Jonas out of piano? Long story--she was an excellent teacher, but the pace was a little too intense for my particular kids--and I keep planning to teach them myself.

And planning. And planning. Why is it so hard to teach your own kids a musical instrument? Or at least hard for me?

We're talking to Wyatt about potty training. Right now we're still in the talking stage, and he's very circumspect about the whole thing. Meaning he sits on the potty for 5 seconds and then says, "No potty down there, Mom. No potty!"

I've been going to the gym again more regularly--during the summer I was riding my bike or jogging outside--and my dumb ankle is STILL giving me trouble. Step in a hole at Sundance and give yourself months of ankle soreness! I keep thinking it's better, then I go and try running and I'm right back where I was--not in huge pain or anything, but sore and stiff. Man, I'm getting old.

I fell off the Weight Watchers wagon and have not yet clambered back on board. Eeh. Made chicken enchiladas for dinner last night--a recipe that contains sour cream, cream of chicken soup, and two kinds of cheese--and man, they were good. But I also bought some candy corns from Harmons after resisting the last two times I saw them, and between me and the kids, they were all gone by 8:00 p.m. Candy corns are my sickening autumn candy equivalent of Brach's Chicks and Rabbits in the spring. So, while I'm not on WW anymore, I must remind myself: DO NOT buy the candy corns! You will regret it!

And speaking of devouring, Ethan and I just whipped through the second installment of the Hunger Games series: Catching Fire. Between that book and The Likeness, which I mentioned last post, I've had some really fun reading lately. Now I'm overcome with that vague, let-down feeling when you've powered through a good novel and don't have anything equally compelling left to read. And I feel guilty admitting this, but I bought Gabriel Garcia Marquez's One Hundred Years of Solitude two months ago because I KNOW that any writer worth her salt ought to read that book, and it's been sitting in my office the whole time, mocking me with it's pretty green cover. I keep waiting for a sufficient burst of intellectual energy. Or something. One Hundred Years of Solitude, I promise, I will read you. Someday. Soon!

And now it's 7:12. Ethan will be heading out the door in ten minutes, so I'd better haul myself off this drafty couch and commence our out-the-door routine. Fall! It's here.