"The month has such potential. There is the summer rental, with its bookshelf of easy literature and sandy bindings. There is the second sangria, the third spritzer, the fourth 'I’m not drunk; you’re drunk.' There is the absent boss, the out-of-town wedding, the totally free weekend that black-holes your best-laid plans, the muggy birthday BBQs for chatty Leos conceived in early winter. And yet the month is freighted with dumb seasonal regrets."
Such potential, dumb seasonal regrets. Ah, how I can relate!
August is my month of wallow. Throughout my adult life, August has been a time where really bad things have happened -- deaths and life-changing illnesses, namely -- and some mildly annoying things have happened that seemed really big at the time -- shitty vacations, summer flus, bounced checks that screwed up big plans, and so on. Usually I start holding my breath around July 31, and I slog through the heat and humidity as best I can.
|Black-eyed susans are nice...I guess.|
In August there's very little money in the bank account because we had so much fun in July, so I generally start the month with my semi-annual "We really need to sit down and figure out why our budget is so screwed up!" freak-out.
Right around the middle of the month I go through my mom mourning. This month, I realized it's been 15 years since my mom died, which seems like a very long time when you're as young as I am...and then I realized that I'm really not that young! I am only 10 years from the age Mom was when she died This realization was compounded when I realized how many close friends I have who are in their mid-40s, and I started to wonder how I would cope with the news that one of them had terminal cancer. This is heavy, spiraling-into-the-abyss kind of stuff to deal with when you're already holding your breath, and it clouds some of those golden flowers, makes the tomatoes taste less yummy and the evening walks less refreshing.
|We nearly drowned in tomatoes...this was just the first harvest.|
And let's talk about school coming: No matter how old I am, every August I have that recurring anxiety dream about school -- you know, the one where it's the night before The Big History Final and I realize I haven't attended the class all semester and have to read the entire textbook. And now that I have a school-aged child, I relive that almost-school-time anxiety in 3D hi-def surround sound. August means stretching and warming up for that never-ending hamster wheel run that comes with school activities, piano lessons, sports practices, church activities, and all the weekend hopping.
As if a regular August wasn't enough, this year we have to endure all the political ads and media blips and online arguments around the presidential election. (Seriously, some of the "man on the street" interviews I saw this week at the Republican convention scared the crap out of me!) I had to turn away from Facebook, especially, this month because I simply want to enjoy my friends' vacation pictures, not get angry about their views on abortion, gay marriage, or economic "hand-outs."
Today, though, I exhaled. It's September. Aaahhh.
|Blue, blue, blue, blue moon|
The slight chill in the air as we hiked around the park reminded me, too, that in a few months it will be February, and I'll be bitching all over again.