Like it Never Happened.

It is not much of a secret that I am a summer loving girl. I enjoy living in a city that goes through all four seasons (even though I, ahem, picked a spot that lingers on winter longer than the rest) but in my book, summer reigns supreme. Perhaps it's because I've spent the majority of my life in the Northeast, or maybe because I'm well aware what a fleeting, brief season it can be, but summer is simply the season I cherish the most.

And I hold onto that season with a vengeance. I'm notorious for adamantly correcting people who say I have a fall birthday. (September 21st falls just before the Autumnal Equinox thank-you-very-much.) I dig my heels in when its time to switch my closet over to fall and winter clothing, I may even shed a crocodile tear or two when I tuck my last summer tank top away for another season. Summer always seems to take its sweet time arriving each year, but there's one thing that always signals its impending arrival more than anything else in this city.

Sam Summer on tap.

Because do you know what the fine folks at Sam Adams brewery align their summer seasonal brew with? Opening day for our town's beloved Red Sox. With Sam Summer on tap comes baseball and vice versa. And oh, friends, that is a glorious time to be a New Englander.

And while I'm often busy doing my very best to keep the summer mentality going long past labor day weekend there's always been a little something that helps me fight the good summer fight. Baseball. If baseball is on, summer is on. At least that's the belief, the irrational logic, I've clung to in my own little world for several years.

Ladies and gentleman, it is Fall. After an utterly abysmal, appalling, and downright frustrating loss last night in Baltimore (I mean, really! 9 games ahead on 9/3!) followed immediately by a second blow in Tampa...well, I was left standing alone in my living room last night having suffered a horrible one-two punch. I suppose I should have been suspect all the way back in April when I read prediction after prediction about our 2011 team being the only one to beat for the glorious World Series title. Still, these wounds? They sting. And to add insult to injury? I had to throw an extra quilt on my bed last night before I went to sleep.

Alas. The mighty Red Sox have struck out. And April 2012 seems so very, very far away.

I'm going to try my best to embrace this new season. I've made the promise to several people that I won't pout or roll my eyes when its time to put on a coat and scarf and that I'll only cry the tiniest tears when I finally cave and turn on my heat for another season. I really, truly, am going to try and learn to love fall for what it is - a truly beautiful, quiet, magnificent season.

It would just be a hell of a lot easier to enjoy if my team was still in the play-offs. Just sayin'