...to bring the harvest home.

Today is the first of October, the last month of the year (as reckoned by some calendars, including the one I elect to keep). The leaves are turning; the heat is fading; the migratory birds are moving on. The monarch butterflies have already left for their long trek down the California coast to Mexico, where they'll spend the winter on sunny beaches, dreaming of Santa Cruz. In the fields, the corn and pumpkins are coming in, along with the late-season tomatoes and the sweetest apples. The cats are putting their warmest coats on, preparing themselves for frozen nights ahead. Fall is finally here.

I am delighted beyond all measure.

I've always been an autumn girl. I love the smell of fallen leaves, the smell of rain either coming or just barely past, the smell of bonfires burning in the near distance. I love the cries of the crows as they call each other to treasure, and the mournful wail of the coyotes in the hills, singing summer to its rest. Persephone has taken off her summer dresses and hung up the apron she wears when she works her summer job—I always assume she works at an ice cream parlor, I don't know exactly why—and is making her way back to Hades, back to her husband, back to her home. The seasons are turning, and for a little while, I get to go as Persephone goes, because this time of the year...this time of the year is my home.

Many of my friends are summer girls. They like the heat and the green and the flowers everywhere. I like a lot of things about the summer—I like strawberries and lizards and the ability to walk for miles without carrying an umbrella—but summer's not my home. A few of my friends are winter girls. They like the cold and the white and the taste of frost. I like a lot of things about the winter—I like cocoa and warm blankets and the taste of peppermint in everything—but winter's not my home, either.

The first of October is always wonderful, because it's like opening a book I've read before that still manages to be different every single time. Welcome back, October. I couldn't be happier to see you.

Welcome to the fall.

I like mai tais. I find them pleasant, entertaining, and charmingly garnished with obscene amounts of fruit. I also like the process of making cocktails. It's like a fabulous combination of chemistry, alchemy, and, y'know, booze. Plus, it's fun. I like things that are fun. So I decided, what the hell, why not learn how to make mai tais?

This is how my brain works. Be glad you don't have to live with me.

First up, I had to find a recipe for mai tais. I like them with pineapple. Thankfully, Wikipedia is always willing to save the day, and provided me with a page that contained more recipes for the mai tai than one woman will ever need. I settled on recipe #5, the pineapple variation, as my "Mai Tai Scripture," the one true recipe against which all other recipes would be measured. At least until I got bored.

According to the recipe, I needed light rum, dark rum, grenadine, orange, pineapple, and lime juices, and triple sec. (The recipe didn't say that I needed a pineapple, maraschino cherries, a lime, or little paper umbrellas. I figured that part out on my own.) So step two was clearly a trip to BevMo. Yay BevMo!

Now, to work at BevMo, one needs a) a decent understanding of alcohol, and b) a sense of humor. Both these things were possessed by the clerk who came over to assist me in my quest. She found me in the rum section, squinting bemusedly at the assortment of bottles. "What are you trying to make?" she asked.

"Mai tais."

"The mai tai mix is over here."

"From scratch."

Beat. "Are you from the university?"

When in doubt, claim college hazing. "Yes."

"Well, then, you'll want this, and this—"

She was awesome, and quickly helped me assemble everything I'd need to make a truly epic mai tai. She also reminded me to buy the little paper umbrellas, without which, the mai tai could bring only shame upon my household. ALCOHOLIC SHAME. So, y'know, thank you, helpful BevMo clerk! You were truly awesome.

After a stop at Safeway to acquire fruit (and fruit juices), I went home, and discovered that putting all my liquor on the counter meant that I couldn't put my laptop there. My laptop, you know, with the recipe. So I did the next best thing, and called Vixy at home, making her read me the recipe. I started off by telling her the wrong recipe, leading to hilarity when she started asking me to put things I didn't have into the cocktail shaker. Oops. We recovered quickly, and I managed to combine all the correct ingredients. Only...I needed ice, and my ice was frozen solid. Cue me smacking the ice with everything I could find in an effort to chip off enough to fill my shaker. More hilarity.

Somehow, I escaped the ice without injury, and was finally able to properly mix my drink. I put it into a glass. I added lots of fruit. And I called it good.

Mai tai! (And My Little Pony, specifically, Wave Runner from the Sunshine Pony assortment. Not that I, uh, knew that or anything.)

Therein endeth the lesson.