October 6, 2010

So, in June, one of my little internet friends talked me into trying World of Warcraft. Man, what a bad decision that was.

Now, I'm an uber-dork. I'm a level 65 Night Elf Hunter on Nazgrel and I've spent the last two weeks working on getting all my Brewfest quests in so I can become a Brewmaster. At level 65, this was no easy feat. It required the elf (who I've named Cascadia) to eat a big pile of cheese and sausage, drink a bunch of beer, ride around on a really big goat, catch and tame something called a wolpertinger (the name of that particular quest was "Does Your Wolpertinger Linger?") and, finally, talk five other level 80 players into helping her get to the final "boss fight", a fight that she was too little to gain access to on her own.

Tonight, with but 18 minutes left in the WoW Brewfest holiday, I reached my goal: I am now Brewmaster Cascadia.

Total, utter dorkdom. What on Earth could it have to do with October?

October, my friends, is when we start to turn to the darker, deeper, richer, maltier beers. Spring and summer are for hops and light, crisp beers. October is for me.

Give me a beer that carried the spices of the holiday season: the allspice, the nutmeg, the cinnamon. Give me those chocolately malt flavors. Give me, at the very least, your wheat beers.

Keep your hops.

No, actually, give me a pocketful of hops that I can carry around and smell. But when you give me a beer, make sure it's balanced with hops and all the Other Things.

That, my friends, is October.

October 5, 2010

I forget every year. The first Monday in October should be reserved for national pride for it is the day that the Supreme Court reconvenes.

But I always forget until I see something on the news about it. Oops.

Today was soup day. October is perfect for soup. The weather (here, at least) ha turned just chilly enough to start thinking about soup. I had some sort of corn chowder for lunch today. My mom had tortilla soup for dinner. It's time for soup.

Soup and the Supreme Court.

October 4, 2010

My feet were cold all day today.

You know what this means? It's time to get the wool socks out. And it's also a little past the time I should have started knitting them.

Here's a pattern you might want to check out if you get a wild hair (hare?) and decide to try: easy socks. This one looks pretty easy, too: more easy socks. I didn't create either of these patterns, nor have I tried them, so I accept no responsibility for how they turn out if you try them. Unless they're fantastic, then you should make me a pair as a thank you.

October is time for socks. Put your sandals away, for crying out loud. Nobody wants to look at your toes anymore.

I've started dragging my sweaters out, too. Socks and sweaters. That's totally October.

October 3, 2010

October is the time of the harvest.

Nowhere is this more evident than at the local farmers' market. I was lucky enough to have a little time today to spend at the PSU farmers' market. Tomatoes in dozens of hues, carrots the size of my arm and the first pumpkins of the season were displayed alongside every type of potato and onion you can imagine. And mushrooms! Mushrooms in shapes I've never seen.

Years ago, I worked at a hotel that, among other things, was home to a vineyard and winery. With the fall harvest comes the fall crush. This, I imagine, is how it has been all over the world for thousands of years. Fall lends itself to a hearty bottle of wine and an even heartier meal. Something with meat and potatoes. Something slow-cooked all day. Something with maybe a little rosemary in it.

Happily, this also helps us build up what I will politely call our "winter coat" for when it gets cold. Man, I feel sorry for the skinny people sometimes. They must get so cold in the winter.

October 2, 2010

In addition to all the things mentioned yesterday, apparently October is the time when men I barely know and may never have met in person profess their love for me over the internet. Three different ones today. You know who you are.

I mention this not to call them out for being overly October-motional, but because I feel the same way. I love everyone just a little more in October. And I especially love people who share my love of October.

Anyway.

I spent a lot of time looking at hotels and national parks lodges today. I guess most people like to travel in the summer. Something about "nice weather". I prefer the fall.

I've been to Minneapolis a couple times in the fall. Gorgeous. The original October Thoughts were born in Wisconsin on what I would call the ultimate road trip. Last fall, I went to Alaska. I look forward to a time in my life when I can take the entire month of October off to travel and write.

Until then, I'm content to settle for a weekend of traveling in October every few years.

For those of you who don't know, this is my last semester of college. I will graduate (officially) in December is a BS in Arts & Letters and Social Science with a minor in Film. I'm at 15 credits this term, most of them crammed into October. I'm in class five days a week. Last semester, I struggled to make it to campus one day a week so this is going to be an uphill battle.

But, somehow, I've managed to clear a weekend to go somewhere. The current plan is Seattle but it seems to be changing minute by minute so suggestions are welcome.

One of the places I'm looking at staying is the Arctic Club. I guess, as I look at my memories and my history through the lense of October, I want to spend a little time with someone else's history. Might want to hit the Klondike Gold Rush Museum while I'm there, too. I'll post pictures if it all comes together.

I'm rambling here.

I think my point is this: how I view October now is formed by my past experiences of October. What do you remember from years past that sets October apart from the other eleven months?

October 1, 2010

October is here.

People started asking me about October Thoughts sometime in June. I love you guys. I really, really do.

October is so many things to each of us. October to me is a series of memories from my childhood. It is the fragrance, a flavor, a sight that triggers those memories.

October is family and friends, pumpkins and apples, the swirling hem of a black cloak and Lon Chaney.

October is when I settle in and write something after months of thinking I need to write something and finding myself unable to come up with the words.

And October is when I reconnect with all of my October friends.

Welcome home.

A cymbal-ic wooden spoon

He handed me a wooden spoon. I took it and just looked at him, dumbfounded. What was this all about?

And then he picked up the cymbals.

Oh. Wait. How..?

How did he hear me say it, from across the room, when he was involved in another conversation, with kids running around making noise? Does he have some magical sense that makes it so he hears every word I say if I'm within fifty feet of wherever he is? Is that possible?

Was this a peace offering? Was it the world's strangest form of an olive branch?

Or was it me just trying to make something out of nothing?