It’s Pumpkin Spice Equinox, Bitches.

I am literally shitting pumpkin spiced foods and beverages out my ears at this point, that is how much I am up in this fall business.

I have been for weeks.

Every year, I find myself here. Writing a blog post about how fucking fabulous fall is. Others have done the same, about decorative gourds season, and about the bliss that comes with the best fucking season of all seasons to ever exist.

Eventually I get sick of it. I tire of the maple candles and the apple picking and the farm stands and the pumpkin spiced flavors and the basic bitch UGG boots. Then I move on to Hallmark movies and cherry and cinnamon flavor palettes and holiday music and putting my tree up before Thanksgiving.

But for now, it’s fall. It’s fall and I am in my zone.

I’ve reached the point where I stop procrastinating on the Halloween costumes, and they begin to take their final form. My two oldest kids – 15 and 11 – still dress up to please their brother, and I am ready. I am ready to sew, tuck, pin, and hot glue that shit together like the most Pinteresty Mom you’ve ever known.

My fall display has been out on the front porch for several weeks now, but I’m ready for phase two: excessive fall display. I’m talking hay bails, I’m talking corn stalks, I’m talking fucking potted marigolds.

Two weeks before Halloween, it will morph to Halloween-themed.

November 1st, we move back to excessive fall display with a flair of Thanksgiving.

And about a week before Thanksgiving, the Christmas bonanza takes over and my fall display moves to the table for Thanksgiving dinner.

I have a system. I’m ready. It’s go time.

As I am typing this, I’m actually – legitimately – sitting here, yelling -nay, screaming – in my Steroid Starla voice: LET’S DO THIS! LET’S GO! Because fall is my jam, and I’ve got my canning gear out.

Literally. I’m ready to make some pickles. To pickle some watermelon rinds. To give salsa and pesto and spaghetti sauce another go around. To make up some fucking fruit butters and canned pie fillings. I hate cooking, and I especially loathe the heat and load of canning. And yet the thought of spending an entire day over a steaming pot of vinegar and boiling water has tingles shooting out of every hole of my Martha Stewart reading – water bath canning – yes, I can do this and no, none of us are going to get a deadly intestinal disease from improper processing – head.

And the icing on this fall’s apple cake is: we seem to have escaped our typical, autumnal heat wave. For quite a few years, it would be a muggy 105 degrees for several weeks through September and October. We would slog around in the heat, wondering how we could ever celebrate autumn when it feels like we live on the equator in the middle of summer.

But – fingers crossed – with the exception of a couple days of heat here, and a few days of humidity there – it is cooling down.

Cooling down for, you guessed it: layers.

The thing I’m loving this year is the new appreciation for basic ass girls like me being into this shit. Like finally people are standing up to the naysayers of all-things-pumpkin spice and proclaiming: NO! You will not make fun of me for enjoying the fusion of nutmeg and cloves! NO! You will accept and embrace the addition of cinnamon to create a trifecta of flavors that have literally been around for centuries. “You know pumpkin spice doesn’t even have pumpkin in it!” the naysayers proclaim, and finally we are there, ready to respond: no shit … it’s called pumpkin spice because it’s the spice used in pumpkin pie, you ignorant, nutmeg-hating twats.

So today is the first day of fall and I’m feeling fabulous about it. I’ve got crafts staged in the garage, and pumpkin spice pancake mix prepped in the fridge for breakfast. It’s Pumpkin Spice Equinox, bitches.

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Get a Little Cray Cray

Do you see the crazy in my eyes, there, faithful blog followers?  While it’s definitely there, it’s not the kind of crazy that I am looking for right now.  The other day I saw someone post on Facebook “What’s going down tonight – I feel like getting cray cray!”  And I realized that I don’t get cray cray, faithful blog followers.  I just don’t.  I think this picture is the most cray cray I have ever gotten, actually:  a trip to the family pumpkin farm.  There were animals (gross!), hay stacks everywhere (grosser!), and my feet got dirty.  The wildness hit a fever pitch when I ate not one, but two all natural frozen lime fruit bars and the event was so off the hook that I had to take a nap, cozied up in the passenger seat of my father’s car, the entire way home.  This is my idea of a wild time.  No jokes, no joshing – I really don’t get cray cray.

But after seeing that Facebook post, as well as getting a taste of the wild side when I did my Dress Like a Hipster post a few weeks ago, I developed a longing deep within to get a little cray cray myself.  I’m not talking barn animals and frozen fruit bars cray cray, faithful blog followers.  I’m talking acting borderline insane, just for the fun of it.

The caveat is that I have no true idea what it is to get cray cray.  I really think a trip to the family pumpkin farm is letting loose.  So let’s do another B(itch) poll to see what you, faithful blog followers, would like to see this lady do to Get a Little Cray Cray.

You will note, all of the polls harken back to a prior blog post of mine – from the one about Tom Skilling to the hillbillies, even all the way back to duckface.  Nothing wrong with a little shameless self-promotion, right?  And anyway, I do have my issues that make that crazy look in my eyes all the crazier…

You can vote for more than one thing, you can also add your own!  So let’s Get a Little Cray Cray..