There are two business days left in November, and I've survived. This is a big deal for me, because this month is the anniversary of no fewer than eight deaths in my family, and so I tend to get melancholy and reclusive. Um, well, more reclusive than is usual even for me.

This weekend, we were in 'feathering the nest' mode: Fuzzy climbed up on the big ladder and hung the blue icicle lights for me, and then helped me secure the top part of the multicolor lights we put on our big window. We made a trip to Target, and bought more 'things we could have sworn we had, but seem to need again' – like suction-cup bath mats for inside the tubs, so we can avoid slipping without resorting to ugly stickers. They're even machine washable. The dogs got new beds, and we brought Cleo an orange stuffed dragon that has five eggs filled with squeakers for her to kill.

We spent scads at OSH as well, on pointsettias, which, I've been informed by my mother, are called Nochebuenas in Mexico. I kind of like that name for them, and I bought containers to force some paperwhite bulbs.

While we didn't go poke around Santana Row as I'd wanted, we did manage to see Harry Potter on one of the digital projection screens at the Century theaters. I love those theaters. They're not exactly new, but they've been remodelled and they're so comfortable, with alternating rows of loveseats and rocking chairs, and I love the way the dome of the roof soars over your head when you're sitting there in the darkness. (I hate the new AMC's, but I won't go into that here.)

We had a gazillion invitations to Thanksgiving foo, but after talking about it, we decided we're going to be insular and just be us. Maybe we'll take to the dogs to the beach, but work's been so stressful, I just want to quietly enjoy my house, and work on Christmas cards, and such.

Oy, I'm feeling all boring and mundane today.
But the month's nearly over.