For the first time in my life, I'm not ready to get in the Christmas spirit. We're a week into November, and I'm not listening to the jingly, tinsel-y, bundle-up-y songs of the season. Why? Because I'm just not ready. And that's not me. Typically, the first day in September when I need a jacket in the morning, I pop in my earbuds at work and tune in to some Bing straightaway. But, no, not this time. Not this year. I just can't bring myself to do it. I seriously CANNOT.
Because I am hanging on for dear, sweet, autumn life to any golden leaves left on the trees. I'm staring at my feet the entire walk to the parking lot, kicking up leaves as I go. I'm sipping cider and slicing apples and opening windows and taking in all that's left. I feel the deepest kind of feelings in the fall. My dreams are brighter and closer. I'm reflective and emotional in all the best ways. I'm the best version of myself, dang it, and for the sake of humanity, and I'm trying my best to make it last! :)
If you're like the old me, or the me I'm possibly suppressing, you may need a substitute for premature Christmas music listening. I've been tuning in to a lot of Joni Mitchell and Carole King and non-Christmas Nat King Cole and Louis Armstrong and Jimmy Durante and Billie Holiday and all their friends. And it's the foolproof e-cigarette solution for September through December Christmas music addicts like me.
Kyle and I rode our bikes to Marrott Park the other weekend to spend some extra time outside and sip some dirty chai. No, that isn't a metaphor or a sex position. It's a real drink: chai tea + espresso. Get your mind out of the gutter.
We recently found this thermos at one of our regular antiquing spots, Carmel Old Town Antique Mall. (Don't worry, we washed it before we used it. Or did we? HA!) Like most things, they don't make 'em like this anymore! Our chai stayed warm for hours and hours, and since I adore all things plaid and all things vintage, it's fits right in with the Beutlers. Twelve dollars well-spent.
Also, I found this old, tartan wool blanket at Vintage Whimsy in Franklin, IN. There are several antique stores we love to visit in that cute little town, and I nearly screamed when I found this plaid perfection.
I have such a crush on my husband.
Yes, we dress Charlie up for Halloween.
Yes, he positively hates it with every fiber of his being.
He thinks that mane is a live animal. Which I suppose is understandable.
This walking picture is blurry and discolored, but oh, it is magic to me. This Saturday morning walk around the village in my pj's was perfect in every way, and I always want to remember it. Always.
We don't take Charlie on walks. Charlie takes us on walks.
You're not allowed to judge me for what I'm about to say, because I know you do it, whomever you are.
On this particular day, I probably should have showered. I probably should have washed my hair. I should have changed clothes. But why do that when you can throw a sweater on over your pajamas, douse your hair with dry shampoo, put in a little braid, and be ready in 5 minutes? Who showers? Psh. Put on some perfume. An extra swipe of deodorant. You'll be fine.
I shared this on Instagram recently, but I'll share it again here because I'm the boss of this blog and I do what I want:
Stop leaf-blowing and raking. Stop errand-running. Stop busy-beeing for a minute or two or five. Start leaf-kicking and pile-jumping. Throw a sweater on over your pajamas and go to the farmers market. Let your dog take you on a walk. Let your kitchen be messy and your clothes be scattered on the floor another day. Let your nail polish chip and your purse clash and your list wait. Don't wash your hair. Just be. And be okay with it.
My great grandma Esther always used to say, "Ohhhh, I've got all day tomorrow!" She'd say this after a family gathering, when we were all trying to wash dishes and clean up. At the time, we'd attempt to fight her on it, and clean anyway. But now I realize why she insisted. There's more to life than being a Martha.
- Maggie (the journaler)
P.s. It's still fall, y'all.