FALL!

OK, now. Now it's fall. Now. Today. Not yesterday. Not three weeks ago. Today.

Order up your pumpkin spice. Start burning pumpkin candles. Do ALL THE THINGS. Beginning today.

Yesterday was rainy and a bit foggy and a little chilly. But, it was the last day of summer. Even though a double-tall-non-fat-no-whip-pumpkin-spice-latte would have been delicious, and, yes, that is the coffee order of an utter asshole, it was the last day of summer. As such, I abstained. I waited. I like the anticipation.

And, go. Now. Go!

I love fall. I love everything about it. I love pumpkin everything. I love changing the summer flowers in the flower pots to grasses and mums. I love pumpkin candles, pumpkins on the porch, soup in the crock pot, hoodies, raking leaves, watching movies snuggled on the couch while it rains. I love all of the things as long as they begin on September 22nd. Not a day sooner. Not a damn day.

Starbucks started serving Pumpkin Spice on September 1st. I say to you Starbucks, with love, 'slow your roll'.





Stop, slow down, suck up the last days of summer. Love them. Then move into fall. Then Halloween. Then Thanksgiving. Then and ONLY THEN enjoy Christmas.

For the love of Christ, and it's his birthday after all, wait until after Thanksgiving for Christmas.

Happy. Place.

Noodle Salad

Some of us have great stories, pretty stories that take place at lakes, with boats, and friends, and noodle salad. Just no one in this car. But, a lot of people, that's their story; good times, noodle salad. What makes it so hard is not that you had it bad, but that you're that pissed that so many others had it good.

- Melvin Udall, As Good as It Gets

Noodle Salad. Or in my family, Macaroni Salad. My Grandma used to make it. Regular Grandma. She made it every year for the Farmers Festival and numerous other family or church potlucks. It's not typical macaroni salad. It's nothing like what you'd get in a grocery store and I've never had anything like it. It's amazing. It's special.

Perfection.

I made it 15 years ago or so for the first time. I called her to get the recipe. She thought that was silly. Why would I want to make that old salad? I've made it a few times since but not with the frequency that she made it. Probably has something to do with the amount of church potlucks I don't attend.

Now I have her recipe. Framed. Clipped from a newspaper when God was a boy. It's faded and discolored. And well loved. And freaking* delicious.

I entered that salad into a contest today. In the Side Dish category.

Cooking contests aren't really my thing. I've never done it before. But I packed that salad up in the vintage pyrex my grandma used and I entered.



Before I left for the event, my mom texted me, 'Good luck! I hope you win, you're a terrible loser.' A pretty true statement, there.

While the votes were being tallied, the boy, now 13, looked at me and said, 'If you win this, it's all on Grandma Aileen!'

Indeed.

And, I won.

Or, rather, Regular Grandma won.

*Even with the win, Grandma wouldn't appreciate that language. 

#winning