Fall In The City

I love this photograph. 

Today is full of projects: hanging lights, carving pumpkins, roasting seeds, making cupcakes & brownies, popcorn needs to be popped (in a pot), not in a futuristic steel box that shoots waves at it, spiderwebs need to be hung, candy put into bowls, champagne glasses cleaned, wine mulled, cards & clues printed, music cued, candles lit and costumes gathered. 

Halloween is my favorite holiday and tonight six friends are gathering - or should I say six strangers: Mr. Green (Ross), Miss Scarlet (Amanda), Colonel Mustard (Giovanni), Mrs. White (Deanna), Professor Plum (Sean) and Mrs. Peacock (Jules). Should be a murderous evening.

While I prepare for the festivities, Ghost Busters will be on the tele, like it is every Halloween in my house. I have watched this film every Halloween for twenty-four straight years, yes that's right, crunch those numbers, my parents took their nine month old to see Ghost Busters in the theaters in 1984. I'm told I enjoyed the film, and was pleasant the whole way through. Scandalous parents...well played.

Like A Popsicle In Summer

When Sean and I decide to make a meal together, to cook together - It's good. 

Myself, and a giant empty soup pot: twelve different kinds of beans (dried), garlic, yellow onion, sweet red pepper, hot pepper (unknown type, came from a friend's garden), celery, carrots, tomatoes, ham, salami, homemade chicken stock, salt, pepper. I simply used whatever we had in our fridge, whatever was on hand. Yes, fresh homemade chicken stock was "whatever we had in our fridge".

Sean, apart from making the chicken stock the day before, crafted some hand made bread. I would say "homemade" but that might imply that we own a bread maker, which we don't. Our home has, what do they call those... right, a baker.

We hadn't cooked together in a while. It was redemptive. Our house - the smell alone was enough.

There are always friends we think of when we cook. Good friends. Close friends. Friends who love food, who love to eat, who love to laugh, who desire to live life with dirty hands, and drippy beards. My friends, you were missed, but thought of fondly - as always. 

It's Not That I Forgot About You

Here is a photograph from our walk last weekend. October has been hard. There is something ticking away inside my head, itching to get itself out, but it's waiting for something. Maybe it's waiting for tomorrow. We shall see. 

However, if your curious what I've been doing with all my time, you can consult the list of films on the right. That, and writing a paper every day for the past, what.. twenty-three days straight? I've lost count. I'm starting to feel as if my writing skills are being whored out to the masses. I realize that's some unapologetically horrible thing to say - but it is sucking the soul out of me to write this much. That, combined with October apparently being fart-brain month, has created a real hum-dinger of a hoedown. 

Seasons

I realize it's been a quiet month. It's been quiet in my head as well. There is always hope for tomorrow. Perhaps when tomorrow comes it will bring with it thoughtful insights and creative wording. Or maybe not. Perhaps tomorrow holds more silence also. So I wait. That's how it is sometimes - quiet. 

For Geoff

I would like to mention the fact that this video has 2,192,771 fewer views than a video of my niece. Now who's hot, who's not?

Not Exactly Clutter

The space under the antique couch has become the new resting place for the overflow of books in our home. Perhaps a bit ridiculous, sure - but we both enjoy the fact that you could now actually stick out your little hand and grab a book - from practically anywhere you plant yourself in our home. You'll find them stacked in bookshelves, and on bookshelves, in baskets, and on chairs, piled upon bedside tables, stuffed into kitchen cabinets and under furniture. Little pieces of stories that wander through our minds, and curl themselves up, under our couch. 

October

... apple pie, scarves, chai, movies, slippers, pumpkins, leaves, coats, candy, walks, costumes, ghost stories, fires, autumn, butternut squash, cinnamon and nutmeg, blankets, colors, candied apples, wind, popcorn, candles, pumpkin beer, pink noses and boots. I love October.

Home.

The cookie jar sits between the jars that hold the popping corn, and the breakfast cereal. Three jars away from the flour, and two down from the coffee. It's not the easiest jar to get to on the counter, being too far back, and obstructed by the dish rack, but somehow, everyone manages. The sound of the glass jar getting dragged against the tile counter, the click of the latch and you know, no matter where you are in the apartment, that some one's hand is digging for a cookie. The cookie jar - always kept full. Full cookie jars, that's how life should be. Full, not for a lack of eating, of taking in, of enjoying, but full because it's constantly being refilled. Maybe not always with the same kind of cookie - but how can you fault the chocolate chip? It's simple, and classic, but that's ok. I like predictability and I like cookie jars. That's not so bad is it? Just wanting to take in the sweetness, the joy, the familiar. The cookie jars are for children, for those who used to be children, for those who have children, and great grandchildren. It tells us stories of home, and of love, and of comfort, and of the familiar laughs with friends. The cookie - not pretentious, or pompous, it doesn't seek much attention. It is confidant and knows where it is needed. In beds with big comforters, and couches packed with blankets, and buffeted by pillows. The high heals, and the bow ties, those are for other desserts. It doesn't fault others for being fancy - it lets them take on the frills and the excitement. Sippers, lunch boxes, card games, camping, and movie watching; that's where the cookie is at home. You can dress it up, you can try and show it off - it won't stop you, but simply look at you and ask: "Why make me something I don't need to be?"