If we were having coffee I would tell you I’m pleased to be seeing more and more signs of autumn. Leaves turning to vibrant hues, falling ground-ward only to swirl back up in the wind and skitter down the rain-slicked streets…

Okay, so I wouldn’t really use the words “skitter” and “rain-slicked” if we were sitting around sipping coffee. I might more likely say something like, “There go those damned dead leaves blowing down the street. You just know they’re going to end up clogging the rain drains, and then the streets will be flooding all winter.”

Along with the skittering leaves of the season, the autumnal rains have set in. I purchased a Gore-Tex coat a week or so ago to wear while walking my American Eskimo dog Chules this fall and winter. I thought about getting Chules a matching poncho, but with his thick double coat of fur, I doubt he even really feels the rain.

Except in his face, that is. He flattens his ears back against his head, and squints up at me accusingly as he hunker-trots along, side-stepping the larger puddles. I’m sure I’ll have that same look on my face in a few more weeks when the gusty cold winds force the rain from a vertical downpour to a horizontal onslaught. But for Chules’ sake – and mine – we’ll persevere in our daily walks.

If we were having coffee, I’d tell you I’ll be watching the U.S. Presidential debate later today. It reminds me of when I was a child and my parents let me stay up late to watch Saturday Night Wrestling, featuring the likes of The Claw in his black mask (Booooo!!) and Rowdy Roddy McDowell (Hurrah!!!) in his kilt, and Beauregard something-or-other in not much more than his well-oiled muscles and skimpy wrestling shorts.

Invariably the actors wrestlers would end up in the spectator seats, chasing one another through the arena aisles, and slinging wooden folding chairs at one another that would break into splinters upon being cracked over someone’s head.

Watching the staged wrestling matches, one could get totally caught up in the drama and suspense even though you subconsciously knew that after the show these “sworn enemies” would likely be sipping beers together at some dive bar just down the street from the arena.

Wait… what was I talking about? Staged… actors… slinging… drama…

Oh, yes. The Presidential debate.

I’m just glad such nasty slime-slinging debates don’t blow in every autumn. It’s bad enough having to deal with those damned clogged rain drains.

Thanks to Diana at PartTimeMonsterBlog.com for hosting the #WeekendCoffeeShare.