Fall is here.

It's late September. The leaves in MN are turning color, some of them are probably starting to fall, and families are making or will soon be making visits to the local apple orchards. Football is on all weekend and baseball playoffs are fast approaching. Yep, fall has arrived and so should have the cool, crisp air and smell of wood-burning fireplaces. But nope. I'm in the dry desert of Phoenix and the concept of autumn here is drastically different than what my 26 years of living in MN thinks it should be.

The other night I wanted to wear a hooded sweatshirt to a high school football game. It just seemed like the normal thing to do. I'm glad I decided against it because I ended up sweating in just my little tee as it was. (Although I kept a zip-up sweatshirt in the car just in case the winds shifted. Ok, I'll be honest, I just laughed out loud because the weather doesn't really change like that around here. And there's definitely no body of water like Lake Superior that could possibly cause anything lake-effect related.)

Also, I'm a big fan of PJ pants. I have my favorite pairs of flannel pants (especially the cowprint ones that my lil bro's wife made me for Christmas a few years ago) and I attempted to wear one pair to bed last night. I made sure the air conditioning was going strong so I wouldn't sweat to death, but I didn't even get the down comforter pulled up all the way before I was out of bed, stomping to the closet to find an outfit that would allow me to sleep through the night and not wake up soaked with sweat.

It's frustrating. Every part of my body believes that it's time to break out the sweaters and hoodies and verify that the winter boots, mittens, scarves, hats, and jackets are in working order. Something tells me I should have left all that stuff in MN for my winter visits.

I guess I'm just going to have to roadtrip to Flagstaff one weekend per month to get my fix of sub-80 degree weather.