Birthday photos

Just a couple for those of you who don't check out the GOFR.

Chocolate, anyone?

New boxers! Yay for a seamstress mother!


New necklace from the grandparents - beautiful.

I realized today that

for the first time in six or seven years, I make my bed every day.

I must be growing up.

The Depth of Fall

Fall is deep. Unlike Winter, which is shallow, the icy cold chilling your bones. You could never go deep enough to get warm. Unlike Summer, when the heat is so oppressive, a heavy weight, that the very idea of depth is abhorrent. Spring, with everything blooming and the showers of color, speaks of Life, everything is light and free. But Fall. Fall is Deep. Like an ancient well, cool to the touch, full of history and meaning, but only if you search it out. You can find warmth in sweatshirts and jeans; comfort. Fall is an extension of the best hug you've ever had.

There is another aura about Fall that makes me love it. The Melancholiness. While there is so much loveliness - the break from the heat and humidity of Summer, the Leaves turning, the Air crisping, there is always a sense of longing, a creeping sadness or gloom that descends throughout the passing of this season. The gloom is, of course in part, the promise of Winter.

I haven't figured out if it is the drawing to a close of the year that brings on the sadness, or something greater, something deeper that speaks to the heart and soul. So much has been accomplished by this time of th year, making it, also, a time of reflection. For some, it might bring a sense of awe or joy, but for others, there is so much left to do and not enough time. Before Winter and the suffocating depth of darkness every day.

I wonder if there is a significant percentage of those born in the Fall who are Melancholies. I am. My cousin is (or so I think, since she and I are near duplicates of each other). There are more. My best friend. I could go on, but I'll stop there.

Today I was searching for poems about September, because I love this month and I was in need of some good poetry. I didn't really find anything online worth documenting here, so I asked Kelly to write me a September poem.

In September
they come back. The locusts
and the undergraduates and
that
one
crazy
lady
who carries carrot cookies in a plastic
department store bag. It is
the start of a year, like
Fiscal or
Chinese New. When it's over they
will leave and she will
find more cookies.

Please feel free to leave your September poem with me. I promise to appreciate it.

When the Dean spoke in class

I was admiring his perfect Irish accent.

He's from there, you see, and his eyes look somewhat like Liam Neeson's. He was raised in Ireland and thus endured the Irish school system, all the way through Trinity College.

This is why I believe he sounds exactly like our Irish head-mistress extraordinairre - Miss Stella.

The monotone, extremely soft, even luxurious sounding voice - it's precisely the same voice, Stella and Mr. Dean.

Elaine, you simply would not believe this. Come meet him (well, it's hard enough for us to find him, he is so averse to library students, but if you catch him [perhaps he's like a leprechaun in that way] - you'll know exactly what I'm talking about).

I made an astute comparison

about my fingers recently.

When held up, with the tips pointed heavenward, my fingers resemble middle-aged women:

heavy on the bottom

I rest my case - they're ugly fingers.

Dad to me, as I open presents

It's an anklet!

about the 18-inch silver, sparkly chain my grandparents gifted me this past weekend.

Does he think I have Cankles??

4 days of festivities to make up for it

Today's my 24th birthday. But it seems like every other day.

I drove 3 hours. Unpacked a weekend's worth of stuff (including loads of scrumtrulescent leftovers). Read some. Went to class. Read some more. And will soon complete the evening with a movie (still debating with myself as to which one).

The weekend, however, was incredible and more than makes up for the dump of a day that today turned out to be (even if it was a perfect Fall day).

I've come to believe that my birthday actually falls on a day of the week - like Thanksgiving is always on a Thursday, and Easter on a Sunday. My special day is on the Saturday before Labor day, the reason being the influx of family that floods our house on the following Sunday and Monday. This year it was 37 people the most populated dinner. And that's missing a branch of the family that totals about 20 more people! This family is huge. And has more reunions than I know what to do with.

This year being the finest Fall that I can remember, made for a perfect weekend. Lots of outdoor games and eating on the patio without pitting out a shirt from the exertion of putting fork to mouth combined with 100% humidity. None of that.

I missed my twin, however, that is, my cousin Stephanie who is so similar to myself I wonder how we weren't twins. We're born 11 months apart to the day and have, since childhood, had similar personalities and interests to the point of scariness, at times. She's another friend like the ones I mentioned a few days ago. Same thoughts. Same minds.

Here's a toast to 24. Kelly says it was the best year of her life, no wait. It was the year she thought she was 24, but was really 23. Oh well. It seemed like 24 was the best. And I'll take that. Lots of exciting things coming up soon!