I thought someone was calling for help just now. It was a lady walking her dog down the alley and singing. At least, I think it was singing.

I guess my Maternal Clock isn't ticking, after all. It must be broken, considering I've been late to the past three baby showers I've attended. It's obvious I'm not fit to be a mother until I can at least make it to a shower on time. The thing is, the reason I've been late is because I've been stressing out about one thing or another. See, women folk are an intense set. They appear not to be, but when you go into a room full of them and the estrogen hits you, you are suddenly aware of where you rank in the world of women. It is so very apparent to a Singleton that she is such when she is among the Marrieds of a Shower. When we are to write cute proverbs in a journal or go 'round and give advice to She-Who's-about-to-Birth-or-Wed, all I can offer is a sort of "Keep up the good work!" (cause it's obviously gotten you this far). "Take heart, you'll do great." Encouragement, but not quite the Wisdom of the Marrieds. 

I desperately want to wow the attendees of baby and wedding showers with what a fine young woman I really am, so that I can be included in the ranks of Womanhood and not feel like a mere bystander non-participant. Theoretically this is achieved by bowling them over with my superior gift selection and wrapping, fine desserts, inspired creativity, and loving care. What I end up doing is spending too much time preparing said gift or foodstuff and arriving late so no one notices anyway, but instead is impressed upon by my tardiness. 

Now I'm involved in planning a wedding for my cousin, which I'm really thrilled about. I admit that I am excited to be the mature 'experienced' young lady of the group, basically due to the fact that I have the most married friends. But I'm going to step up and wow them nonetheless. I'm going to be helpful, organized, and encouraging. I'm also presiding over the Braun Household while the Mr. and Mrs. are cruisin'. I am happy to do it, it makes me feel special. 

What's the moral of the story? Nothing huge, I guess, except that I am proud of who I am as a woman. I get to share my love with the world, and be there to support my loved ones when they need it. I may not have the labels of 'wife' or 'mom,' but I am a sister, daughter, cousin, and friend. 

What the Smell?

I've heard in the past from several sources which I couldn't now site that one's sense of smell is the strongest memory cue. It doesn't really seem to be true, but I suppose it may be because there aren't a whole lot of smells that really stand out to us. However, if you smell a distinct smell at a circus, and then get a whiff of that same distinct smell later, you would be taken back a lot more fully than you would at looking at a picture of a circus. 

This sort of makes sense because smell is such a part of the atmosphere. You can close your eyes and breathe it in and smell where you are. You feel it, sense it, with the smell. We often don't notice it because our smells of home are so familiar that we don't register them. When you travel, though, I assure you you will be aware of new smells. 

Sometimes a smell will take me back to another part of the word. Usually it's the smell of something burning. A couple years ago, after I'd come back from Kenya I was working in Albertson's and all of a sudden got a whiff of burning chicken, and I nearly started crying. Not because I'm a chicken activist, but because it all of a sudden transported me back to Kenya where I'd sit on the roof of our Guest-House and drink in the ambiance. Needless to say, we ate a lot of chicken whilst in Kenya. 

Today's scent is another sort of smokey burning smell, and I think it's coming from the restaurant next door. It reminds me of India. India. Now that's a distinct smelling place. Smoke, pollution, dirt, food cooking, spices, incense, and smog. I remember driving down the streets with our windows down and being so thankful for each stand we passed that was cooking something aromatic, or incense being burnt (even if it was to a Hindu idol) because it gave my nose a break for few moments. As in it provided a rest from the pungent odors, not as in the smell was so strong it punched me in the nose and broke it. 

There is only one other smell that has ever taken me back that wasn't a smokey burning smell reminding me of an underdeveloped country. It is the smell of Cherry Chapstick, and it takes me back to childhood. I can't pinpoint where and when, or even why, really. I'm pretty sure I had a tube or two in my youth and thought it tasted good. 

Even though these smells don't transport me to a specific moment or memory, I do declare they take you somewhere. And for me it's somewhere warm, fuzzy, lovely, and smokey. 

Yesterday was Labor Day and that's fine with me

The unofficial end-of-summer has come, and on September 22nd it will be official! 

It has been a truly splendid summer. It was just the right amount of everything (almost). I went on a mission trip to Mexico for a week. I had several parties and many get-togethers with people I love. I went to Solvang for a day. I worked enough to make money but not so much that I had no summer. I enjoyed having time to be creative and have fun. I enjoyed the lack of some things and the presence of others. 

The Big Summer Oh-Nine wasn't all fun and pleasure. I was sad at parts, people were sick, people were sad, and my main man, Hunter, passed away into kitty heaven. But all in all, I'd say this summer was pretty much everything a summer should be. 

So here we are, at the beginning of yet another school year, and the freedom of summer is over. During the Season of Sun everything seems to work so much smoother. People are available when you want them, people are more flexible and able to do a lot of what they want to do. Then when fall hits, even the people who's jobs aren't seasonal fall into a sort of schedule or pattern in which everything is all of a sudden much more difficult. Perhaps it's just me, but the way our lives are in the summer kind of seem like the lives we're meant to have. It doesn't seem natural that we are bossed around by our schedules and the responsibilities we have at work or school. Of course, we all have responsibilities. Outside of summer, however, they seem to rule our lives. In summer people have time for people. It's nice. 

Having said all that, I don't really like summer. That is to say, I enjoy the summer in that it is a season of holiday and freedom. Other than that, I do not enjoy HEAT. Nor am I a big fan of water-things. Swimming, the beach, pools, etc. Now, I enjoy the atmosphere of the beach. It's a beautiful place and great for bonfires. You just won't see me dip any more than my feet in the foam of washed-up waves. The Sun and I have a polite friendship. I think he's nice enough. He burns me. In fact, I usually get a sort of heat-exhaustion from sun exposure. Headaches from the sun. That sort of thing. 

But what I LOVE is gloomy days, cool breezes, clouds, and FALL.  I like fog, being chilly, dead leaves, and the harvest! I get an inner sense of joy when apple-y things start to appear, like apple cider and caramel apples. There's something magical about it being cool enough to wear a sweater. I sorely miss my days back in Indiana where acres of trees would put on a leaf-show and change colors in blocky patches of yellow, orange, and red. Gorgeous. Maybe Fall is called the Indian Summer because the Native Americans could appreciate the majesty of Autumn just as Californians play up the grandeur of summer. 

For me, I start to get really excited when the first day of school hits, not because I enjoy school tremendously (believe me--not the case!), but because as soon as school hits, Fall jumps out from behind the corner. The season of joy for me arches like a rainbow starting with the beginning of Fall and reaching over Christmas and ending somewhere after New Years Day. It's my favorite time of year. Not just Christmastime, like some sing about, but more of a Fall-Thanksgiving-Christmas-Winter-time. Love it!

I hope things at school start to work out for me, and I am able to work enough. When things fall into place and settle down, I will happily settle myself into the season like a kid landing backwards into a pile of leaves, and just stay there, looking up at the clouds passing by through the remaining leaves above, and breathe in the warm, crisp smells and exhale my woes.