Here we are, betwixt and between the Sturgeon Moon and sweater weather.
August was robust and ridiculous in equal measure.
But it deposited us here on September’s shores, and here, with you, is exactly where the cats and I want to be.
Before we get all pumpkin spicy, let’s revere the month that brought us the feast day of St. Augustine, some abomination called Flamin’ Hot Mountain Dew, the return of the murder hornets, and a certain splendid wonderbeast named Finola (pictured in top thumbnail with her intergalactic eyes):
Arrived: Astell, Roo, Forrest, Perseides, Raven, Kuzco, Yzma, Kronk, Pacha, Dietrich, Garbo, Bow, Finola, Cleopatra, Allegheny, Kittatinny, Tuscarora, Strider, Dorothea
Adopted: Sturgeon, Koda, Charly, Breyer, Stevie, Andy, Boun, Daveed, Kronk & Edy (together), Cotton (yes Cotton YES THAT COTTON YES THE ONLY COTTON YES I AM YELLING HOW CAN I KEEP FROM YELLING), Carley Rose (YELLING CONTINUES AND ALSO SINGING)
Returned: NOOOOOOOOOOO ONE
Repromoted to the Lobby After an Inglorious Ringworm Staycation Of Which We Shall Not Speak: Boobalah
Promoted to the Lounge: Disco
Promoted to Heaven: Dunkin, Heather
Stuff We Learned: There is absolutely no one on earth who can force you to grow up, even though there is absolutely no one on earth who can prevent you from growing old(er).
Mishush wants to smush your attempts at the former, while delighting in every day of the latter. Mama Onyx, on the other hand, would like to lodge a complaint with the Department Of Eternal Childlikeness, for obvious reasons:
September, you’ve got your turtleneck sweater pulled up over your face, and we can’t see yet whether you’re smiling or smirking or chewing Funyuns. We ask you only this: when you dump your backpack on our desks, may only mercy spill out. OK, also pastel highlighters. Let’s fall.