Yesterday I was at a meeting for Herr Meow’s pseudo-school thingy and several things happened:

1. It being August 21st and all yesterday, the date was mentioned and I realized that my birthday will be in less than two weeks.  Specifically, the calendar clearly goes in this fashion:

Tuesday, August 21st
Tuesday, August 28th
Tuesday, September 4th <– "oh, right,  D-day"

And it seems that every year I am reminded of this fact and still manage to do the same amount of freaking-out.

2. OMGOMGOMGOMGOMG my child is old enough to go to some sort of school.

3. Time passes way too quickly.  I met a couple of women last night who’ve managed to be pregnant at least once more since the last time we were all pregnant –that being the main reason we were at this school-thingy meeting.  That just blows my mind, because I haven’t really even gotten over being pregnant the first time.

4. This August-September timeframe is definitely the best time of year.  This time and that late-April/kind-of-almost-all-of-May one compete directly.  Okay well, and summer can be nice too, if a little too hot.  And yes, I miss summer already even if it’s supposed to be in the 90s again starting tomorrow.  And well, winter is nice too –all snuggly and sweatered and stuff.  But *weatherwise* this is the best time of year.  Did any of that make sense?  I hope so.

5. Do you know what makes this time of year extra awesome, apart from the break in the heat and the lack of annoying interns?  CRICKETS. 

As I left the place where Herr Meow will be for three hours a week for the next four months or so –sniff sniff!– I was greeted by the loveliest serenade of loud crickets.  The air smelled sweet and tingly and slightly perfumed; there was a gentle breeze that proudly boasted, "I’m totally 65 degrees; with humidity accounted for, I might hit, like, 68, max?"  (it is well documented that breezes talk like Valley girls)

There was a lovely and huge magnolia tree to my right, and it looked so pretty with its glossy evergreen leaves.  If the tree had talked, it would have probably had a very soft and light Southern accent and it would have asked me if I wanted to sit nearby and enjoy some sweet tea (YES please!).

And the night looked peaceful and heavy with possibilities– that perhaps this summer is not fully gone, and that turning thirty-one is just like turning any other age, and that even when it gets soul-crushingly cold it won’t be really all that bad because there was last night and last night was beautiful.

I’m glad that August exists.
And I look forward to September just a little more today than I did yesterday.