I have re-crunched the ankle I sprained a few weeks ago, and this time Fuzzy is insisting I see a doctor about it. I still think it’s just a sprain, and I see no reason to spend valuable time sitting in plastic chairs reading old magazines, to be told it’s a sprain, but my toes are feeling kinda furry, like they’re partly asleep, so I’ll be calling the clinic in the morning.

No, really, I will.

In other news, my plan to do all Christmas cards by December 1 went *poof*, so the new goal is by the end of the weekend.

Well, I’m only at 14,679 words (as of 12:56 AM CST) but with Fuzzy drugged to the gills to kill the pain in his toe (he had an infected ingrown toenail completely removed today – if you’ve never had that done, it’s the WORST, and while it’s technically band-aid surgery, it’s incredibly painful band-aid surgery), I’m missing the DFW-NANO picnic tomorrow, and should be back on track by the end of the weekend. I know he’s in serious pain, because when he came home he went straight to bed, and didn’t even attempt to climb upstairs and check email.

In other news, I killed the scanner mechanism on my old HP-K60 office jet printer when I mailed it out here, and it was really slow, so after doing research, I have become the owner of a Lexmark 6100 all-in-one. It’s much sleeker than the HP, has cool light-up buttons, and the scanner part is a flat-bed, so even though I have no intention of using the fax capability, I’m really happy with the printer in general. It’s so FAST – I’d been looking at laster printers, but this is faster than most of them, and for half the money. Also, my postage meter arrived today – and maybe it’s silly, but I’m excited about having it.

It was so warm in the house today that I had the a/c blasting, then forgot to turn it off when the sun went down, and now the house is FREEZING, and I have only myself to blame.

I’m looking forward to a quiet evening. I have a couple of unread books, but I’m not reading much, as I’m trying to finish the NaNo project on time, and so I’ve got American Gods and Kushiel’s Dart as bathroom reading – it’s unsual for me to read so slowly, but that’s the ONLY place I’m reading just now.

I’m looking forward to Thanksgiving. We have no plans, and are only, maybe, going out for dinner, but I’m excited about decorating for Christmas, painting the dining room, and getting Christmas cards done.

For now, though, I’m gonna go curl up in bed, and try to sleep, so that I can get up early and write.

Neither my NaNo project nor any of my blogs have been touched since Monday. I’m suddenly overwhelmed by the amount of boxes left to unpack, and wondering if time would be better spent doing that than scribbling endless pages of utter drivel.

Work’s about the only thing that is going well, though I wish there were more of it. Chris Baty says in No Plot, No Problem that being busy makes you more productive, and that’s totally true, at least for me. I work best under pressure. With all this time to fill, I get restless and laggy. I need to join the Curves here, because it’ll totally help with the restlessness but I haven’t managed to get there.

* * *
Today we slept late. Well, I slept late, and Fuzzy slept almost forever. Between the time I got up (at noon) and he got up (at 2:30), I finished arranging the bathroom, and straightened the living room. Then we went to Home Depot, where we bought exciting things like a fireplace log-holder/grate/thing (what IS the proper name for those?), a flag for the mailbox (to signal that there is outgoing mail), and an extension cord.

I’d promised to make teriyaki chicken, but since we were out, and hadn’t eaten, and Don Pablo’s shares the Home Depot parking lot, we had Mexican food instead. I am now totally in love with queso, which is something like what Californian’s know as “nacho cheese,” except that it’s made with real cheese at good restaurants, and comes in a bowl, for dipping, not as an added topping. Well, not SOLELY as an added topping. Warm tortilla chips and hot queso, mmmm. (We also had actual entrees of enchiladas with rice and corn cakes, which were satisfying, and, thankfully, not too spicy for my wuss tongue.)

* * *

I wonder how much of my crabby listlessness this week is due to PMS, and how much is due to the fact that I haven’t had coffee since Monday. Probably, it’s fifty-fifty.

I’d hoped to have everything unpacked before NaNoWriMo began, but that didn’t happen. We still have a kitchen table full of miscellaneous stuff – the kind of odds and ends that could fill a junk drawer. I have so much cabinet space that we have actual EMPTY cabinets, but in this house drawer space is at a premium. My office, and Fuzzy’s office are still mainly in boxes (Well, the furniture’s assembled, and the computers are set up), and I have four boxes of clothing – I’m so accustomed to having one suitcase of clothes that having OPTIONS feels new and special.

* * *
I hosted my first NaNo write-in. Only one other person showed, but that’s okay. I made my first day minimum word count, and more. Today, I have a few work things to do, and then it’s all rainy and blustery so it’s the perfect day to dabble at unpacking and writing, and maybe make something nice for dinner, to be ready when we get back from Kinko’s.

* * *
I have a new cell phone number. IM me or Email me if you know me, and want the number. It’s a Texas exchange, finally.

I also have a new cell /phone/ – the motorola v400. It’s a quad-band with net access and a camera. Yay, new toys.

* * *
We not only voted, this morning, but also got in our daily exercise, as we had to park 1/4 mile from the polling place. There was drizzle, but it was more refreshing than annoying. The woman running for sherrif was greeting people outside the polling place (outside the minimum limit – barely). She seems nice. The ballots were so short! No measures! No propositions! And the system is so high tech: photocopied sheets and sharpies, and then the sheets are run through a scantron kind of thing. I was the 411th person to submit a ballot at my polling place this morning.

* * *
November’s always been a difficult month for me. Having the new house, NaNo, and new people to meet, to focus on, is really helping the month redeem itself.

Halloween, 1975.
I am five years old, and my mother has made me a Pocahontas costume. My skin ispale enough that her Clinique makeup makes me look the part. I have rawhide cords woven through my braids, and breathe in the scent of the makeup on my skin. That scent is one of three that define my mother.

* * * * *

Halloween, 1976
My first Halloween in Georgetown, CO. My mother turns me into Laura Ingalls Wilder, because our teacher told us any costumes worn to school had to be characters from books. This inspires her to sell handmade sunbonnets in her store. They’re popular.

* * * * *

Halloween, 1978
Georgetown, again. This time I am BatGirl, with black satin ears. I’m excited about wearing the costume again, the next February, for KinderFasching, but we’re not in Georgetown, then.
* * * * *

Halloween, 1980
It’s cold enough that I had to argue with my mother about wearing a jacket under my costume. I think I’m a witch. I don’t remember. It’s the first Halloween that my friends and I go trick-or-treating without supervision.

Halloween, 1986.
It is Friday Night, and also a time change. At least it’s that way in my head. I could be combining similar memories, though.

I’ve spent the evening with a bunch of my friends, drama geeks all of us. We played “Freeze” at the party, and Becky (Snow White’s stepmother) and I (a geisha) end up taking home prizes. Mine is a coke-bottle radio. It even works. After the party, I stay up to watch the clocks change, watching the 1982 Anthony Andrews/Jane Seymour version of The Scarlet Pimpernel. I have a spiral notebook and my favorite pen, and I scribble stories and poems while the television provides company and accompaniment.

* * * * *

Halloween, 1991.
I am getting ready to take the train to San Francisco to hang out in the Castro with J. Our costumes are lame: she is a bumblebee, and I am a mime, and all around us the costume of the moment (at least among USF students) is pregnant teenagers, or pregnant cheerleaders.

We pay a dollar to the guy running the airport shuttle, who is giving rides across town. When we’ve had our fill of the engergy and spectacle, we walk down Market street, stopping at Safeway to buy cupcakes with orange frosting. Halloween is not complete without those. It is a rule.

Earlier that day, under some compulsion, I spent half an hour talking with my grandfather, by phone. It was to be the last time I ever spoke to him, alive, for he died a week later.

* * * * *

Halloween, 1992.
I wake from a dream in which I was speaking with my grandfather, to find I’m holding the phone, which has no dial tone. I hang it up, pick it up again, and the dial tone has returned. I remain convinced that the phone call was real.

* * * * *
Halloween, 1995
We choose not to wear costumes to work, but Gateway buys cupcakes with orange Frosting for everyone.

* * * * *
Halloween, 1998
We hang out with my mother and grandmother, passing out candy to the little kids. When the door is closed, we mock the children with store-bought costumes, which consist of plastic masks and smocks or pinafores with a picture of the character the costume is supposed to represent.

* * * * *
Halloween, 1999
The pumpkins we carve are from the vine that took over our back yard. We write a note to ourselves: Never plant pumpkins or narcissus in anything but a very controlled space.

* * * * *
Halloween, 2002
We celebrate by opening the doors of our brand new house to the neighborhood, and later by making sure all the kids know we give out good candy.

* * * * *
Halloween, 2003
This year the festivities go on for half a month, it seems, or at least all week. Our friends graciously invite a bunch of us to carve pumpkins on their light-colored carpet, after which we take a flashlight tour of the Winchester Mystery House. Other friends are involved in an improv performance that week. On the actual day, we host a small gathering and watch Harry Potter (even though we’ve all seen it) because it’s on, after the trick-or-treaters disperse.

* * * * *
Halloween, 2004
New house, new town, new state.
We have pumpkin lights, but this year I haven’t felt the urge to carve a pumpkin, I think because my house is still all in boxes. Does the NaNo kickoff party count as a Halloween event? To me it does.

I say… And you think… ?

1. Blackout:: curtains
2. Platinum:: blonde
3. Leather and lace:: bodice rippers
4. Court:: jester
5. Mind your own business:: childish
6. Gambling:: poker
7. Lily:: calla
8. Evasive:: maneuvers
9. Turn-on:: rain
10. Suspect:: usual

A couple of months ago, before we actually left California, I mentioned that in packing, I’d found my grandmother’s knitting bag, and that as all my friends had taken up needles, I was inspired to do so as well.

The desire to learn a new craft has been in the back of my head ever since, but it’s only this weekend that I got to unleash it. While we were at Barnes and Noble on Friday night, I bought the Klutz book on knitting, which included a couple of needles and some practice yarn.

Yesterday evening, I decided to take the needles out for a spin, and I opened the book and attempted to follow the instructions for casting on. Now, while I’m not a GOOD knitter, I’m generally a good interpreter of directions, even the ones that are mostly diagrams. Also, both my grandmother and my (male) fourth grade teacher had, at one time, taught me a bit about knitting, so I should have been able to pick this up really quickly.

Slip knot around left needle.
Fine.

Cast on next stitch.
Um, sorry?

The proof of how bad the directions from Klutz were, lies in the fact that Fuzzy had no problem following them (though he was only successful at casting on ONE stitch, and I had to show him what a slip knot was).

This morning – well, really this afternoon, as we’d been awake at six am, and didn’t get out of bed til noon (me) and three (him) – I was determined to prove myself capable of basic knitting, and so I found a website that gave instructions which made sense.

And while I’m badly out of practice, and my first stitches look worse than the ones my fourth-grade self had created, I’m at least feeling less like a moron and more like a person who has some kind of a brain.

So, yeah, today, I’m learning to knit.

I feel talented. Oh, yes.
Yesterday I managed to not only trip, but also to fall off a flat surface, sprain my ankle, and STILL not spill my venti soy chai.

Well, it wasn’t exactly a flat surface.
And I feel more pathetic than talented.

Our garage has, at the driveway end, a 2-inch drop from the floor of the garage to the cement surface of the driveway. Last night, after we returned from PetsMart, dinner, and Barnes and Noble, I was walking around to the back of the car, to get the bag of books, and instead of watching the ground, I was looking up, hoping to avoid having a gecko fall into my hair (They’re harmless, but, ish, who wants one in their hair?).

First the world went out of balance, and then there was a soft crunchy sound, as my ankle twisted, and all my weight went onto the side of my foot. I’m sure I looked like the scarecrow from The Wizard of Oz in that moment, except, you know, more busty and better dressed, but all I felt was hot flames of pain.

I limped pathetically into the mud room, reclaimed my chai (it had been rescued by Fuzzy and placed on the washer), and then herded the dogs in front of me to the kitchen, where I could sit, and they could greet me without knocking me over.

Two ibuprofen and 20 ounces of chai later, I was able to do laundry. We made it to bed at 4:30. This morning, after a painful walk to the bathroom on a foot that still hurts and an ankle that is stiff, more than actually swollen, I made Fuzzy wrap an Ace bandage for me.

Two more ibuprofen, and I managed the stairs to sit here, in front of my computer – my beloved green and aluminum desktop thing, lovingly reassembled by my husband (mostly, I suspect, to stop my incessant whining about my slow, dying laptop).

Yeah, I’m talented.
Or something.