Oh. My. God. We are SO BACK.
HELLOBA EVERYBODY!
It feels like it’s been years since I started my seasonal break, even though it was, what, April? when I shut down my computer and decided that maybe I should go touch some grass. The summer seemed to take it’s time getting here, meandering every step of the way while I kept waving my hands and begging for it to hurry along so I could properly enjoy long days with sun-kissed (read: burnt) skin, iced sweet tea, and as many cucumber sandwiches as I could stuff in my face.
May and June brought with it a barely-contained burst of excitement for growing things, and my weekends were spent overhauling my back yard to make room for anything and everything edible. Tomatoes, potatoes, corn, carrots, peppers, cucumbers, and herbs, oh my! Even the flowers we planted were intended to be plucked, dried, and brewed into herbal teas. This year was our trial run of urban-homesteading– minus the chickens.
Once the plants were planted, and no longer needing to be tended to beyond the courtesy watering in the mornings, I turned my attentions inward. Lil Boba was off to galivant along the west coast with her grandparents and my temporarily empty nest was in need of a little shake-up. So, for the first time in my adult life, I completely emptied out a room and then painted it a very bright, very silly and very fun color. Sometimes, you just have to paint a whole room pink.
Incidentally, while I was rolling what looked like Teletubby style pink goop onto my walls, I kept feeling waves of giddiness and apprehension in turns for all of the home-improving activities I’d been doing. Sure, this is my house and I can do what I want with it (is what I kept telling myself) but the decades of restrictions that I experienced as a renter kept looming over my shoulder. It didn’t feel properly real until the room was entirely done and the new furniture all put in. (Lil Boba loved it, and her room is a very popular spot for sleepovers these days).
By the time that the garden was tidy and green shoots of varying vegetables were reaching their tiny green leaves up to the sky, the bedroom was finished, I was properly feeling proud, accomplished, and felt like I’d rather done my fair share of ‘being productive’ for the summer season. Two large projects got hefty green checkmarks on my to-do list and I was suddenly free to do… Well. Whatever the hell I wanted.
The last days of summer became a quiet bubble of peace and lollygagging. Sure, I still worked long hours at my day-job, but most days were dotted with breaks to go sit out on the back porch with an iced coffee and a smoke while the dogs chased our new friends– the local sparrow flock– around the backyard. My plants were all growing in, and sitting under the shade umbrella while a small make-shift fountain (constructed out of a large serving bowl and a tiny water pump) surrounded by flowers and fruit and flies and animals– I experienced the kind of peace that authors write about.
Alas, it couldn’t last forever.
Just when I finally felt like I could really get settled in to my routine of waking up to warm, humid mornings for my daily dose of lizard-time in my back garden, Summer promptly packed up his bags and called himself an uber without so much as leaving his phone number behind. Already, the shrinking daylight hours are giving way to cooler sunsets and even cooler sunrises. I’ve been making the drive to Lil Boba’s school in the mornings with headlamps on and my coziest, snuggliest, baggiest sweater wrapped around me like the modern-woman’s house-coat (yes, the satin bonnet stays on).
The days are still warm, but the vibrance of summer is giving up the ghost, and fall has already started creeping in with leaves that just aren’t quite as lustrous as they were a few weeks ago. Pumpkin-spiced everything is being advertised on every window, door, and sign (my seasonal ban from all things retail has begun). Hallows Eve is just around the corner.
This summer was a well-deserved break. A break from the internet– from work in general. From expectation. From restriction. It was also a love letter. To my mobility, and joy, and accepting of myself. I didn’t pressure myself to be any one thing. I just was.
If there’s anything that I carry into this next season of life– to fall, and winter, and the next spring (the months I’m historically the most busy with art and streaming and projects)– It’s just existing. Doing what I want, when I want, and not feeling bad for it. The only person who ever felt bad that I wasn’t doing a specific thing was myself, and wouldn’t you know it– feeling bad about what I want is suddenly very out of fashion I’ve decided.
Notes, Announcements– The House Cleaning Stuff
STREAM RETURNS – 2026.10.04 – 8PM ET.
2026 STICKER DROP – 2026.10.10
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