Feeling Fallish

I lied. I said I wasn't over summer but I lied.
I am so excited for autumn.

 

Side note: while we are on the subject of weddings, take a look at my friend Kailey's. I saw her and did a double take because I thought it was me. Hair, dress, shoes, umbrella, crinkle-nosed laugh? Check.

All I need is an Asian husband. Side note over.

But seriously. 

I love the bundling up in scarves, cardigans and chunky sweaters. I love not having to shave my legs Sunday morning and wearing my thick tights to church in North London the Maeser building. 

I love making pumpkin goodies.

I love the way it smells inside Bath & Body Works. (Wallflowers, anyone?)

I love that it's warm enough to have campfires but cold enough to snuggle up with hot chocolate.

I love watching this movie. (Which can only be watched in the fall.) I'll probably need to have a party soon.

I love that "dye your hair" itch that I can resist for a while but never overcome.

I love our cute table.
(I love that my healthy roommates make it look like I eat my vegetables.)

I love driving to my chill fall music. Death Cab, Fleet Foxes, Brandi Carlile. This week, my songs of choice have been Lua, The Cave, and always always New Slang.

I love seeing the mountains slowly ignite and remembering how autumn looks back home.

I love seeing all the Halloween candy in the grocery store and knowing that Tom the Thankful Turkey is sitting under my bed waiting for his time to shine.

I won't make this picture any larger because my expression gets too frightening.

I love that I may or may not have put Mariah Carey's Christmas album back on my ipod... just to be ready. Thank you Nicole.

I love that in a couple more months I get to pick the Christmas hymns for sacrament meeting... and that suddenly, I am willing to fight tooth and nail for ward choir practice. (Seriously people? Who am I turning into?)

I love that we are all signed up for this baby! (Training, schmaining.) 

I love football. And I love staying up late on Friday nights.

And I love General Conference!!
(I'm telling Lindsay that getting in the Ensign is worth giving up a Saturday in our pajamas.)
 

(I googled "General Conference" and this came up... I couldn't not use it. Love. this. man.)

Mothering

Some women are angels.

And some are more like angels of death.

They tell me in church that women were born with a divine gift to nurture.

I believe it.

But all my dead goldfish and houseplants do not.