Dear September,

I am currently a bit overwhelmed by you. This may be a recurring seasonal feeling, but it would require research to confirm this suspicion. You bring with you the same Newness of January, what with the school year kicking off and our social calendars filling up, but with the extra excitement/pressure of a birthday.

My 30th birthday. Gah. I have less than a week to figure out how I want to celebrate. We’ve thrown around the idea of 30 parties for my 30th year, and though the roommate thought it would be amazing, I quickly realized the scheduling difficulties it might present.

Let’s not ignore the exciting ventures that are happening/starting/bubbling under the surface of my brain. I’m quite incapable of ignoring them, though. I will be going about my daily business, and suddenly I’m reminded of one of them, and I’m temporarily incapacitated. I grab a piece of paper, scribble a list, and quickly pray that I’ll have the courage and dedication to follow through with Yet Another Plan.

Last night I pulled a quilt project onto my lap while watching a movie. It’s finally cool enough that I want to make things. There will be much sewing in the future, along with many big pots of soup. Anyone have a smoked turkey carcass taking up space in their freezer? What about a ham bone? I will take them both off your hands, and bring you a container filled with delicious soup. Unless I eat it all first.

Okay, September, you officially exist now. I’ve blogged it. Game on.

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