fall into fall, and a bit of rambling

Starbucks has introduced their great fall line-up, football season has started, it's forecasted to be 68 degrees Saturday night, and everywhere there are orange scarves and pumpkins.

I think fall is about to be here.
But, you know, in Texas that still means 100+ degree days for most of this glorious month of September, which is really my favorite month of the whole year.

It starts with my birthday, celebrated four days ago by attending the season opening game of the Texas Longhorns with 101,000 other people, and a new friend. Nothing says "welcome to fall" than sitting at the very top of the Longhorns stadium for an evening game, and watching the moon glow over the Austin skyline while a breeze cooled everyone. Plus, we won, so that was awesome.

Texas Longhorns vs. Wyoming Cowboys

My Facebook page lit up Saturday and Sunday with birthday wishes, all of which I deeply appreciated. The one that made me cry, though, was a text message I got Monday from my former nanny-child's mom. She wished me a happy birthday from her and Josey, and said they went to the circus a few days ago and Josey said she wished I was with them. And then tears stung my eyes. It's funny how after all these years one little girl can still have a grip on your heart, and she remembers me. And then yesterday my best friend sent me a picture message of her two-year-old son with a Longhorns shirt on and a caption, "Making Auntie Holly proud!" I'm truly blessed by the little squirts in my life.

I'm fighting off a cold, or whatever it is. Whatever-it-is is a sore throat and mild congestion capped off with some ol' fashioned fatigue. Last night I had a strict regiment: leave work early, get Vitamin C, go home, rest, run, eat, make chili, shower, sleep. So that's what I did, and I was not deterred by the books scattered across the kitchen floor because Skye had knocked over the bookshelf. Nope. Cleaning up books and fixing a bookshelf was not on the evening's agenda and so I left them.

And I slept for 10 hours, which in my world is a glorious, glorious thing.

I've got a 5K coming up on Saturday and I'm so, so, so glad for my birthday-present-to-myself running shoes. Can you believe I bought running shoes?  I still catch myself, like last night post-run while washing dishes, thinking: You ran. YOU RAN. And this is monumental because I've always said, "I am not a runner," despite my great admiration of all my running friends. But now, here I am, running a little at a time and a little bit more at a time.

And judging myself for not running more. Why do I that? Tuck and I had a good run last night and on our way back, I was frustrated that I couldn't run anymore. That's my adversarial side talking, and then I become my own coach: "You've only been running for two months, you've got a couple diseases, you started at zero and look at where you are today. Get over it! And be satisfied."

So I told myself, "OK, self. You're right."

And I walked the rest of the way home.