Seasonal Itchiness

...what I got you got to get it, put it in you....

I blow my hair dry for perhaps the third time this year. Brown and gold strands float around, fall past my waist. I've dreamed of a picture of myself, one that has my hair hanging in a curtain to my ankles. Outside MissSue-Across-The-Street, bald from chemotherapy, greets me with a gap-filled smile. I feel incredibly guilty and entertain the notion of slicing my hair off at the shoulders and gifting her with it.

I pull into Park, sign in and am stuck with a pin. Blood pearls at my fingertip, and then, dropping into blue testing fluid, sinks like a pebble. O Wonder and O Glory! I am good, so good the phlebotomist did not need her centrifuge to determine how good I am! My iron levels are sufficient. I drain quickly and exit with less blood but more joy.

I am sunbathing, yes, in October. I will continue to do it all winter, when weather permits. "Are you wearing clothes?"

Did you want me to be wearing clothes?

Though I adore autumn, I hate giving up my strappy, stringy summer tie on bits of nothing in favor of cozy fuzzy turtlenecks. With my tank top under a suede jacket, I wear slacks, and my toes, always the last to go into hiding, peep out cheerful and pink from my g-string sandals.

Large warm husband slumbers beside me, and I toy with the idea of staying with him. Roll over, face the beautiful sunbeams streaming through the window. Stay in bed? No, today is a good day to fly. I go, leaving the children behind, and fly. My timing is so off that Scout and I never even touch fingertips, but my landings have been tidy enough that whoever is working the lines allows me to fall full speed most of the time, which in itself is wonderful.

Falling at full speed. I am so all about that.

(Give It Away; The Red Hot Chili Peppers)