if the sentimentality of this post doesn't make you throw up in your mouth, maybe the Canadian accent will, eh?

At some point in May, I decided to change up my normal hot-black morning cup of coffee to an iced deal involving flavored creamers. At the time, the only flavored creamer that didn't sound absolutely disgusting was coconut, and in fact it was exactly the perfect way to recognize the beginning of summer: not too sweet and rather tropical. I used to bring a Rubbermaid container to the marketing firm, and pour it over ice, and for a few moments at least, I was a coffee creamer advertiser's dream, taking a mini-break filled with artificial flavoring and sugar in my gray cube.

But today is gray and cooler. There was rain in the morning, and the white umbrella on my deck is dripping wet, and the inbox is filled with questions on introductions and conclusions. It's pretty much fall. I drank the last of the coconut today, and waiting in the wings for Monday is pumpkin spice. I don't know how long I'll want to drink iced coffee as we get into October here, but I also think that a pumpkin spice White Russian is something that deserves at least a tryout. Possibly a tryout that involves several rounds and then ends in drunken e-mailing, or even better, drunken Facebooking.

(ed. note, 9.14: pumpkin spice is DISGUSTING. back to coconut we go.)

Anyhoo. On the agenda for this weekend is a walk to the post office, and a big organization checklist that deserves some attention before I am swallowed up by portfolios and rough drafts, and a haircut so I no longer look exactly like a cocker spaniel. Add to this that it's raining, and I kicked off the morning by listening to "Thriller" and eating leftover bruschetta for breakfast and washing my new sheets, and I am pretty much living my OCD dreams. It's also my official fall submission weekend, so there are many envelopes and paper cuts in my future and hopefully, hopefully, some good poetry karma. And the leaves are starting to change, and the butternut squashes are popping up at the farmer's market, and my colleagues and I have been holding rather emotional conversations about how amazing Honeycrisp apples are, and SERIOUSLY, DON'T YOU JUST FUCKING LOVE FALL?

I'm sorry to shout at you. It's just a good morning here so far, and life feels as if it is finally starting to find its shape here. Happy weekend to you, then. Happy fall! Eat a Honeycrisp apple. And now let's end this post before it really wanders off into nothing and you all throw up in your mouths, eh?

p.s. one thing on my list today is to reserve a room in Chicago for this bitch. If any of you out there already have one, tell me where, and save me having to actually look up hotels in the area. Because we all know how hard that is, especially with the magic that is Google.