Autumn, champagne, and hurricanes

I write this in the midst of chaos.

In case you haven’t heard, the entire East Coast is panicking over the presence of “Frankenstorm”, a hybrid hurricane + nor’easter that’s wreaking havoc all over the place.

If you recall, The Mister and I do not tend to hyperventilate over such events.

And such is the case this time. Even though this one is a touch bigger than last year’s, we’ve spent yesterday and today quietly puttering around the apartment and going about our routine.

…with the exception that we have to work at home, we can’t go outside for the fear of neighborly judgement, and we keep waiting for the power to go out.

 So there’s no time like the present to update you all on the happenings of Mr. & Ms. CQC.

Since the honeymoon ended (hah), we’ve largely returned to our routine.

I’ve gotten used to the killer 1.5 hr (one way) commute to work for my new job on a fancy ivy league campus.

Despite bingeing on podcasts and NPR, the drive is not terribly pleasant.

But at least there are pretty things to look at once I get there, especially amidst the autumn leaves.

Including stately grounds
Ornate entrances
Brownstone passageways
Castle-like edifices
And gratuitous archways with no logical function

And, of course… it’s namesake:

Meticulously manicured ivy.
No, seriously… this ivy is out of control.

I know its a badge of honor to be “Ivy League”, but the above photo is of a parking garage, for Christ’s sake. Get your act together.

This beautiful locale has also afforded me an escape from city drudge to enjoy the yearly splendor offered up by deciduous leaves:

The colors.
The glory.
AND the crunchy fun they offer.

One weekend we both escaped the city and frolicked out to the countryside in order to see pumpkins and gourds in their natural habitat.

Their natural habitat being “rustic” displays at a garden center.

Whatever… it was $15 a pop for entrance to the pumpkin patch.

So we decided this would do.
Not bad.

Overall we’ve been enjoying autumn as newlyweds in our usual ways:

“Our usual ways” meaning we gorge ourselves on weather-appropriate foods.
Like making pumpkin raviolis, natch.

Well, that is… we were enjoying our autumn fun.

Until SOMEONE had to bail for a work-related trip to Belgium.

You’d better be ashamed.

So while The Mister tromped off to hang out in 12th century castles and eat chocolate, I dissolved into the sad state of affairs that is Single Living.

Perhaps some individuals thrive off of being alone.

But after several years of living solo “just to prove I can”, I found that I am instead prone to depression and lonesomeness when left by myself.

Yes, I am also ashamed of myself.

Ever the independent woman, I know that this is not the right state of things. I may feel lonely, but I refuse to act like I’m lonely in an effort to defy my inherent vulnerability.

Thus I spent last week plodding around in a stoic state of denial of my own loneliness.

In doing so, I attempted to regain my confidence and grandeur in the kitchen when the Mister is by my side, only to result in failure.

Another crack at pumpkin raviolis somehow ended up a mushy mess resembling sad scrambled eggs.

And then more failure…

My first-ever attempt at a layer-cake… this was before I tried cutting it.

I don’t even know what happened there.

On top of it all, these sad things occurred while living in squalor:

It was only like this for a few days… (or six or seven…)

And under the harsh glare of the only other living specimens who could testify to my deplorable state.

Don’t judge me, cat.

So about halfway through The Mister’s business trip, I finally tried to get my act together and act like a Certified Independent Woman.

Which involves putting Destiny’s Child on repeat, obv.

Which didn’t really work…

But the triad of harmonies Bey & Co. offered made me realize that I didn’t have to go through this misery alone.

So I invited over the inspired mind behind this fabulous blog to whip me into shape.

First order of business: get outside.

If only on your rooftop.

Step two:

Serve mimosas even after the sun sets.

Step three:

Keep going until your supplies are depleted.

Turns out after three bottle of champagne, you won’t feel so lonely anymore.

Luckily, The Mister came back from Europe a few days ago and is ready to resume his duties as my right hand man.

Just in time for this:

Good timing.

If you need us, we’ll be huddled under blankets with our cats and flashlights.

And maybe some more champagne.


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