We decided to head out after dinner this evening for a coffee at a local Second Cup. It’s been raining all afternoon, and it just seemed like the thing to do, because we could.

I’m guessing Mr. G, honey wanted to test the rear windshield wiper on the NMV (new motor vehicle).

Isn’t that right, Mr. G, honey?

I know I’m right.

He played with the little window wands — that’s what I call them — all the way to the coffee shop. You know, those little gear-shifty gizmos that make your windshield wipers go on and off, hurry up and slow down, giddyap and go in motion so slow that you feel like you fell back another hour for daylight saving time, not to mention the squirting-fluid-everywhere super power.

We’ll talk about run-on sentences in another post.

He played with those little window wands. All the way there.

Moving forward.

At the local SC, I thought I would break out of my usual small-decaf-nonfat-latte pattern and have something more adventurous. Something with pumpkin spice for the season. The season we’re currently in. The season of autumnal leaves and Halloween and Thanksgiving and gourds and straw and…

But for some reason, SC has moved on to the sleigh-bells-ringing-walking-in-a-winter-wonderland-reindeer-on-the-roof season with peppermint this and candy cane that, and something called Noël Log.

I ordered the usual.

I’m not ready.

I’m not ready to take that leap into Have a Holly Jolly Land.

It’s too soon.

As the NMV locomoted down our street with the windshield wipers going every which way, I was eyeing all the curb appeal. All of a sudden it began to feel like our neighborhood was doing its own interpretation of The Three Faces of Eve.

Looking to the right, I could see a frontscape decorated with cornstalks and scarecrow and pumpkins. Looking to the left, there was a fat, inflatable snowman, fully inflated and swaying in the breeze. I wanted to jump out and hand him an umbrella before he melted. Another house had Santa on the roof and brightly colored lights hanging from the eaves.

We pulled into the drive, and I looked at my own pink fairy roses and barrel of candy-striped geraniums that just won’t quit, a testament to summer.

Yep. We’re living The Three Faces of Eve. Right on my street.

Huh.

Is this happening in a neighborhood near you?

Hello, Monday!