Today, in an effort to explain why I love this time of year, I coined the phrase apple weather. While it's true that apple cider is making it's annual re-appearance in the stores, I wasn't really referring to apples themselves, as to the fact that we're in a pattern of sunny, warm days and nights that are cool enough for flannel pajamas and small fires. Truly though, the analogy works, as apples are both crisp and sweet.

Earlier this afternoon, I sat in the sunny back yard and watched Cleo on perimeter patrol while Zorro did what chihuahuas do best: held the deck down. I think he must be a solar powered dog, because even in the hottest weather, he loves to sprawl on the patio and soak up rays. After, he comes and asks for attention, and he always smells like fresh line-dried laundry (and corn chips), and I scratch his ears and call him my sun-baked doggy. But I digress.

As I sat there, I reflected that what I love about this time of year is that even when it's in the mid-eighties, the breeze still has a bite to it that reminds me what the season really is.

In celebration of Fall, I sipped a pumpkin spice latte while re-arranging three bunches of seasonally colored flowers (blood red, maroon, and wine with yellow centers) into two vases, one for the kitchen table and the other for my desk. I haven't bothered to bring home cut flowers all summer, and I realized tonight that I really MISS that ritual, so from now on, even when we order groceries online, flowers will be included. (The secret, btw, to making grocery store flowers look good is to buy two or three bunches and re-arrange them.)

As much as I hate getting up early for it, I'm looking forward to choir practice and church tomorrow – what better way to begin a week than by raising your voice in song? I'm feeling so festive, I might even wear a skirt.

Yes.
I do own a couple.
And they're not even black.

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The title is correct, and yes, I did submit my own picture (just now, so it may not be up til sometime tomorrow.) Fuzzy didn't even fret over it – after all, bra-shots don't reveal any more than the average bathing suit.

In any case, October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month, and since even MEN can get breast cancer, you should all go visit Boobiethon.com and make a donation (or submit your own image).

Hey, it's all in fun, and it's for a good cause.

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This is an audio post.

To hear it and read the transcript, go here.

I've been going through a period of extremely brief periods of sleep, followed by even more brief bouts of wakefulness, the end result being that I'm sleeping in two hour blocks, which is neither restful, nor particularly satisfying, though the dreams I'm having have been vivid.

Graphic even.

Too graphic for this blog, of course.
(You'll all just have to speculate.)

I've never been 'good' at sleeping. I'm nocturnal, with my mind really coming alive late at night, and then, I have an over active imagination which causes me to spook myself and then spend hours huddled in the dark with the sheets up to my chin, and with some form of contact with Fuzzy and the dogs, basically waiting for false dawnlight to peek around the edges of the vertical blinds and peer between the slats, giving me the sign that the sky is brightening, and sleep is now 'safe'.

It's ridiculous, of course.
And the thing is, I'm not afraid of the dark, I'm just weirded out by mental imagery, however staticky and pixelized.

Fuzzy's alarm clock dependency – five different alarms spaced over two and a half hours – does NOT help, because usually the first will go off just as I'm finally easing into REM and then the pattern will continue until the last one, which still does not provoke wakefulness in the man.

I share all this because lack of sleep has affected my coherence, and my momentary desire to write. At six AM I have lovely ideas, but turning on the light to write them down would wake me TOO much, so they float away.

On the subject of sleep patterns, I am curious:
Do you get eight hours of sleep a night, on average?
If so, is it at a “normal” time, or do you live in reverse, or on a stretched-out schedule?
And does your imagination ever get the better of you, even in adulthood?

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Your Life on Battlestar Galactica by bookwormdarlin
Your name
You hail from	CapricaPiconTauronSagittaronIconArilonTrevorGeminonVirgonCanceronLeonisScorpia
You live to	Be the greatest viper pilot everSlaughter every last cylon without mercyPreserve your way of lifeHave sex with as many crewmates as possible before you dieDuh – find Earth….who knows, all my joys were destroyed by the bloody Cylons
Starbuck admires your	Viper skills
Baltar was heard whispering	You look hotter than Six
Adama always calls you	the last person he would ever sleep with
Apollo wishes you	would stop sucking up to his dad
Tigh once drank to your	Karaoke skills
Your Call Sign is	Trigger
Your chances of being a cylon: 54%
Your chances of reaching earth: 30%
Quiz created with MemeGen!

After a false start on the first of this month, registration for NaNoWriMo 2005 is up and running once more.

If you've ever thought about writing a novel, or even attempted to write one, but failed to finish, this event is for YOU.

Come find other insane scribblers who are committing to the attempt to write a 50,000-word novel from start to finish during the month of November.

If you decide to come along for the ride, be certain to say hello to Zoetrope on the boards there. (That'd be ME.)

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Your Sexy Halloween Costume Is

Sassy Sister

I found her while searching for a piece by Julian Lloyd Webber. No, really, I did. You see, Mr. Webber once recorded a funky syncopated version of Paganini's Caprice No. 24, simply called “Variations” (it's a theme that flows through his brother's musical Song and Dance) and while I used to have a copy of it, the tape has long since disappeared.

Not that I even own a cassette player any more.

But I digress.

I was surfing eMusic.com when I found a violinist called Michi had recorded it. Admittedly, I saw the name and imagined some incredibly studious Asian prodigy. Instead, after following chains of links, I found a young woman from Colorado who fuses classical violin pieces with a Celtic and folk sensibility and also composes her own stuff, when she's not playing in bluegrass bands.

I was instantly entranced, and, since I still had 90 free downloads available, grabbed her whole album, Curved Space, and immediately added it both to my Napster list and my Zen.

I love her interpretation of the Paganini piece, but what I like even better are the Ukranian (I think) folk songs she's included in the collection of nineteen songs. She's a versatile player, switching from haunting allure to jaunty dance tunes laced with mischief on this disc, and would be a great introductory artist for people who think violin music is stuffy and boring. (Actually, my cello-bias has always made me feel that violins are too shrill, but she plays without any annoying shrillness at all.)

In her blogger profile, Regier refers to herself as a âœfiddle-in-istâ, and articles I found on the web intimate that she calls herself either a fiddler or a violinist depending on what she's playing at the moment. A true gypsy, she's played everywhere from Carnegie Hall, to the L'viv Philharmonie, to renaissance faires in Colorado, and performs reguarly in pubs and coffeehouses in the Denver area with the band DjypsyGrass.

Curved Space can be purchased from cdbaby.com or downloaded from eMusic.com.
Michi Regier's website can be found at michimusic.com.

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I’m not struggling for words, so much as for time in which I have the energy to write. As September wound to a close we had a blissful day of fall weather, followed by a new pattern of overcast morning skies and toasty afternoons, with the evening low still hovering in the 70’s – cool enough for evening coffee in the back yard, but not cold enough to turn off the a/c at night (our bedroom gets extremely hot during the day.)

Still we’re using the a/c LESS. It’s a start.

In other news, my new gig has gone live.

And finally, with the turning of the month, and the ritual flipping of the calendar page, comes the return of Pumpkin flavored foods, and Halloween decorating. A few of my neigbors have already decorated their lawns for Halloween. I think one should wait through the first week of October. If you have thoughts, feel free to share them.

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As if it was necessary to make a dramatic entrance my Muse returned tonight, borne aloft on cold winds from the northwest, and bringing with her hail, rain, violent wind, and a two-hour loss of power that occurred just at the high point of tonight's episode of LOST.

While we had many gadgets that were charged and ready, without net access or light with which to see, using them was rather pointless, so we lit tons of candles, and snuggled on the bed reading (him) and writing (me). I'm so used to the seemingly incessant background hum of electrical paraphernalia, that when it actually, well, ceases, I find myself distracted by a house, indeed, a neighborhood, gone suddenly still.

I went out several times to watch the storm: breathing in the cool air (which, admittedly was about 80 degrees, a number that only falls into the 'cool' category after a humid Texas summer), and letting myself be amazed by the way lightning was strobing across the cloud-thick sky.

It was only when the heavy rain stopped and the air settled that I realized that the night was far less silent than I'd thought – neighbors were calling across the street, and over back fences – making sure that the power company had been called, and that it wasn't just THEIR house. In the back of my mind, and later in an IM with a friend, I mentioned that I love how interactive my neighborhood is (witness: there's a children's concert in the park on Saturday), and how cozy.

The whir-click-hum and sudden illumination that signified the return of modern technology were jarring, both in their relatively swift arrival (two hours for an entire zip code is pretty impressive, I think), and in the way they shattered the restfulness and peace of the night, which I had finally wrapped around myself, as one would do with a cozy shawl or cotton blanket.

Now, at half past midnight, I find that the house seems over-bright, though it's still filled with the scent-symphony of hot wax, lavender scented candles, and rain.

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