Fall’s really crept up.


Charlotte had to wear this hoodie and pants outfit with the hat that Mommy made her last weekend at Ocean City (note the beachy couch!). And that’s her first tie-dye, from her Grandpa. With the hot summer we had, we were ready in this apartment for another fall like 2007, when we sweated through 90-degree temps in Washington on October 4th for our anniversary. I assumed September would be hot, and now it’s gone. Bizarre.  I was so prepared for a long summer that our AC units are still in.  The living room is drafty tonight.

But now it’s October, which is supposed to be my favorite month. The windows are closed, and I wore socks last for movie time and a very late dinner at about 10pm, because babies make you busy.  I put out the fall decorations while Charlotte napped and Mommy had to work today, a Sunday.  Pumpkin time, and all that.  Mommy was super pissed that she had to work.  I didn’t realize how long window stickies take to put up by yourself.

In other shitty news, a family friend passed away the other day, suddenly.  She was about my parents’ age.  Of course this has me thinking, in a bad way.  And Charlotte gets to attend her first funeral, in the same local Catholic church where I was an altar boy for around 100 of them (no foolin).  This lady was very freakin cool, too.  But we ran into her when Charlotte was only a few weeks old.  So they got to meet, and I know that I gave her a hug and was glad to see her when last we met.

Still, this is sad.

Nothing looks like this, not lately.

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This week: grey, rain, rain, rain, grey. With recently broken bones and my still-smashed right hand, I’m tempted to sound like one of those people who acts like crappy weather was invented just for suffering and just for their suffering at that.  It doesn’t feel good.

However, in search of better times and making the best of what’s left of autumn, Mrs. P. and I will venture to our very favorite bookstore and perhaps have dinner somewhere in Charles Village, Hampden or Roland Park.  I will have a waterproof messenger bag, so treasures will make it home unscathed.  At least it’s going to be in the upper 50s/lower 60s.  I hate when it rains just shy of the freezing point.  Unless I’m cycling.  I do get a kick out of that.

Curiously, Normal’s is on 31st Street, where I blew a spoke last Sunday and had to miss the ride I’d spent so much time helping to plan.  Much better tidings today, I think.

My bike is out of commission currently.  Yes, breaking a rear spoke on the drive side can make your wheel no longer turn without hitting the frame.  No, this does not, as has been suggested, make me a wimp or perfectionist.  It’s a matter of my understanding bike wheels, at least a little bit.  Plus, there’s the empirical smack-your-ass part where my wheel literally does not turn.  The shop will take care of it; it’s under warranty.  It’s a good excuse to visit my favorite bike shop.

I need to get some new books and spend quality time with the Mrs. and our little belly/Baby.  As if it’s not obvious, I’m growing increasingly less patient with people’s bullshit.  A nice walk usually helps a lot.

Autumn, gone so soon?

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This was the second weekend of October.  Now most of the leaves on my street are gone, save on the larger oaks.  Wow.  But, as much as October will probably always be my favorite month, November isn’t far behind chronologically or in my esteem.

Halloween is almost here.


We have been watching scary movies, documentaries and “Treehouse of Horror” episodes out the yingyang. It’s awesome. I was reading some Poe, but I’m holding off on more of that until closer to the 200th birthday perhaps.

Learned about poverty today.


Well, as much as one can at a catered event when the speaker is nicely dressed and using multiple expensive technologies to express her wisdom.  I know there are a lot of assumptions we all make (yes, you and I, too!) about poverty and about those living in it.  But in talking about avoiding stereotypes and generalizations about class, we keep reminding ourselves that these generalizations are false.  But then we use them and act like they are hard-and-fast.  This happened repeatedly.  And some of them really strike me as not only unreliable but also false.

For instance, in talking about humor, we were told that members of lower economic classes use it to defuse negative situations but that anyone in the middle class doing it might be seen as disrespectful.  Pile this on top of the statement that “business” procedures and customs are based on middle class ways of thinking and doing, which we were also told.  Unless I’m more of a dreamer than I thought, I can swear I have seldom seen middle class people show signs of feeling disrespected by people using humor to lighten the mood.  And when I have, it seemed more of a personal issue than a class issue.  Maybe humor is universal?  Or, at least, class-less?

I don’t know where I’m going with this.  It just makes me sad and makes me think about what I spend money on.

And thankful for my full belly tonight.

October is here, and I am happy.

I’ll be happier when I get a new camera to document the earliest autumn in recent memory though. But today, it’s raining, possibly storming later. My knee’s been bothering me, and I enjoy the bus. So I rode in that noisy beast’s belly today. Grabbed a coffee at work just now, crossing the street on cold sandaled feet and under the cheap black umbrella I bought at South Station in Boston eight weeks ago today. It reminds me of fall 2002, when I lived in Boston and when we had a spectacular fall. We went to Salem and celebrated Halloween like never before. Walden Pond on what might be the most beautiful fall day I have ever lived through.

It also reminds me that, this time five years ago, I was speeding (literally, doing like 90 mph because I was an idiot) toward Baltimore to get married. Regardless of how the wedding actually went (what, with certain family members who — admittedly — tried to ruin it because they didn’t like our style and our refusals of their suggestions), October 4th is my favorite day. And regardless of the stressful, infuriating, quick event our wedding was, October 4th was also the day that we got together, back in 1997.

So while people keep asking me how many years October 4th makes, I qualify my answer that it’s eleven for me. My wedding was not when I was committed. It was not even when I was publicly committed. It didn’t change how I feel about my wife at all. Nothing can.