October revisited.

Do you ever hold grudges against inanimate objects, and events? You know... things that can't fight back?

The number eight, all work by Mark Rothko, popsicles, cowboy boots, anything with a Vera Bradley label, and Thursday. Not the band, the day of the week.

These are all things that I hate... and completely irrationally. I've had somewhat scarring or otherwise unpleasant experiences with all of them at some point maybe 10 or so years ago, and from that point on, for no particularly good reason, I begrudge them all till the end of time.

On the very top of this list is October. Yes, the calender month. I realize it might sound a little bizarre to say that you are feuding with a month of the year, especially because you have to live through it whether you're chummy or not, but there it is. October and I have been at odds for as long as I can remember. It's illogical even for me because everything about this time of year holds the things I love. Both September and November and I are buddies. I adore everything about fall in general. The impressions leaves make on the sidewalk when they fall while it's raining... the cracking sounds that come from a slightly damp fire... bouquets of newly sharpened pencils.

...But then there's that blemish, October, right in the middle. It's a problem.

I'm not even sure how it happened. I think it might have had something to do with the fact that October is the busiest month at the inn, so all growing up I dreaded it coming... it promised generally crabby guests and a lot of weddings.

At any rate, I've decided to offer the olive branch to October, and end my feud. Really, it's a lovely month, and I think I'm the one who's been missing out in this exchange and not the other way around.

So yesterday I spent the day dedicated to enjoying October. (I also neglected to photo -document, so all photos used to demonstrate will be stolen. You've been warned.)

I started off at the farmer's market down my street.


After all, there's no better way to reconcile than with food, I thought. So I bought lovely loaves of artisan bread, and tangy sheeps cheeses, beautiful acorn and butternut squash, little yellow fingerling potatoes, the very last of the lovely heirloom tomatoes, spicy Italian hand-rolled sausages, and a gallon of fresh apple cider. Oh my. I get happy just typing out such a haul.

And then came a long afternoon walk through Brooklyn sipping a chai from Tillies, my favorite coffeeshop.


And then I ended the day in the best way humanly possible. I cooked. I cooked lovely, fallish things, and I brought lovely friends over to enjoy them with me. Kat (my roomie) and I hosted two of our girlfriends for a celebration of fall. Our kitchen was full of caramelizing onions and roasting squash while we danced around to oldies and sipped cider.

I made this:
(Oh goodness yes, I did. And it looked --and tasted-- just that divine.) along with a crusty loaf of olive-dotted ciabatta and a lovely pecan pie brought by my guests. I honestly don't know if it is possible to eat any more fall-ish-ly.

All of that to say... I guess October and I can be friends afterall.

I'm leaving you with the song that has been filling every dusty corner of my soul lately.