Halloween Afternoon Wedding Tea

Well, I have never in my life put together a little tea party as quickly as I did this morning. My friend F phoned to ask if she could drop by with her daughter and new son-in-law. F's daughter lives in Ohio and is down here visiting. My husband and I met her a few years ago when she was here visiting her mother. We hadn't met her husband before, being that they just got married this past Spring up in Ohio. After I told F to come on over, I called A and told her that F would be here with the newlyweds, and I'd let her and her husband know when they got here.

F had met her future son-in-law when he and her daughter got engaged, but she couldn't get up north for the wedding ceremony. So.... I thought why not have a little wedding cake right here, with some bridal decorations tossed in amongst the Halloween decorations. F's daughter and son-in-law (S and B) were going to come here for our Halloween party last night but had to cancel because S wasn't feeling well. (Combination of jet-lag and running-around-visiting/shopping/sightseeing-lag.)

Into my stash of decorations I went... and found some paper honeycomb wedding bells-- the Hallmark kind that folds flat but expands into its shape when you open it up. I had some white ones and purple ones, saved from 1995 when my sister flew down here to get married. My husband and I arranged a wedding party for them and I saved all the decorations that my sister didn't take home with her. I swear, I save everything that I think I'll use again.

So up went the bells, hanging from the dining room archway and the chandelier over the dining table. And purple, no less! Perfect color to go with all the orange and black Halloween decorations.
I had bought a pretty frame for the newlyweds, and that was all wrapped up to give them last night, so that went on the dining table with one of the honeycomb-bells.

Ah... we need a cake. Being that I sent everyone home with Halloween goodies last night, my cake plate was empty. Into my pantry closet.... and there was a Duncan Hines angel food cake mix. I was going to make that yesterday for the party, but didn't have the time yesterday afternoon. So... down came the mixer, the pan, and I pre-heated the oven and got that cake going. As it baked, I looked all over for some sort of topper for the middle of the cake.

One of the purple bells would work, but I needed a bride and groom. Into my stash of cut-outs from my Victorian magazines... and I found a cutout picture of a bride and groom wedding cake-topper. Too perfect. And the cut-out was shaped like a heart... I attached it to the top of the bell with a toothpick.

Those cut-outs.... Before I bring old magazines to the Senior Center, I page through them looking for glossy pictures that I can use to decorate party bags and favors. I cut them out with a pinking-shears to give them a nice edge, and save them all in a box. I can't tell you how many times those cut-outs have come in handy for something or other. It's a great box for kids, too. When our little friend C spends the day here, she goes through that cut-out box looking for pictures that interest her and she makes beautiful collages out of them. A sheet of art paper and a glue-stick and she's busy for an hour or more just being creative and having fun.

Anyway... by the time the cake was baked and cooled, the coffee pot was set to perk and I had the dining room looking like it was ready for a wedding celebration. F was surprised, and so were S and B-- and so was I, that everything just got together so quickly. And, for once, my angel food cake didn't stick to the pan and it came out looking great. A little dish of crushed pineapple for anyone who wanted to add more sweetness to the cake. A & D came down (from three streets away) for the little party, and we were all set to go.

So that was this afternoon's fun... an impromptu wedding tea that turned out just fine. And this morning, our neighbor V "booed" us for Halloween. Except she didn't leave her gift and run away from the door-- she waited there till we answered the bell this time. Very un-boo-like, but she wanted to see our reaction to the little black kitty she gave us. Tiny stuffed kitty-- when you squeeze its belly, it meows... about four times. Then it screeches so loudly that it could wake the dead. No bigger than a Beanie-Baby--- how did they make it that loud?

My husband and I oohed and aahed over it. Cute little kitty, but we won't be squeezing its tummy to make it meow and screech. A few years ago when V booed us, she left candy and another howling gift on our front porch. That gift was a small stuffed trash can with the tail of a striped cat sticking out of it. When you pulled the string on the side of the can, the cat would howl. That thing howled so loudly that our own three cats were searching all over the house for the cat they could hear but couldn't see. And the worst part of that kitty in the can? It would howl half an hour after you set it down. Just when you thought the howling had quit, it would start up on its own again, louder than the first time.

That kitty in its trash can went into my Halloween storage box and then I put it into some boy's trick-or-treat bag last year. He was thrilled when I showed him how it worked, but I'm sure his parents couldn't stand it. I'll bet that same kitty-in-the-can will be going into some other kid's trick-or-treat bag tonight.

It was gorgeous, sunny and hot all day today. Just when it started to get dark, we had a rainshower. Lasted about five minutes and when it quit, we had our first group of trick-or-treaters. Would you believe that no one in that first group wanted one of the black plastic hats with the green hair? Not one kid even wanted a pair of the Groucho glasses.

Kids in the second group took one of the hats, one of the red-glitter devil wigs, and about three pairs of the Groucho glasses. (Finally-- kids with a sense of humor!) I don't want to save the hats and glasses for next year. After all, if the men in our Charades group didn't want to wear them this year, they won't be wanting them next year either. Hopefully, by the time the Halloween curfew rolls around at 8:30 tonight, there won't be any Groucho glasses or green-hair hats left in this house.

It's drizzling out there as I type now. I hope this doesn't spoil the trick-or-treating for the kids. Note to the Great Pumpkin: no more rain tonight! We've still got half a dozen Groucho glasses left!

Halloween Morning

It's after midnight as I type... I am still too wound up from the party and the chocolate desserts that were on our dining room table to even think about sleeping yet. Too many wonderful goodies, but the best two were brought by our friend C. She had chocolate mice (complete with tails, made from cherries and Hershey kisses) and "Severed Fingers" (a Martha Stewart recipe). The fingers were made from a dough that actually looked like a person's fingers. The "fingernails" were slivers of almonds that she painted with red food coloring. And the fingers were standing upright in a bowl filled with crushed chocolate cookies-- so they looked like they were stuck into a bowl of dirt. They looked hilarious on the table!

Speaking of the table... I had found some silky material in one of the local fabric stores-- black background, with glowing gold and purple and orange spiderwebs all over it. I cut it to fit both the dining room table and the sofa-table in the living room-- looked great and very Halloween-y.

I had Halloween headbands for the ladies-- with either a witch or a ghost or a black cat on them. I also found red glitter wigs with red satin horns.... perfect devil-hair! The ladies got to pick what they wanted to wear, and they brought them home to wear tomorrow for Halloween night when they open their doors to the trick-or-treaters.

This party was just great, if I do say so myself... we all had so much fun! And the costumes--- our friends A & D were dressed in outfits straight out of the 1950s-- A in a poodle skirt and initial blouse, with white sneakers and "bobby-socks." D had on a leather jacket, jeans, and a rock & roll tee-shirt. Both of them looked like they could have been in that old television show "Happy Days." (Fonzie would have approved!)

Our friends C & L were a hit with their costumes as well. L was dressed up all in cowboy-black, complete with black hat and boots, with a red bandana tied around the bottom of his face as if he was ready to hold up a stage coach. His wife C was dolled up in a beautiful off-the-shoulder embroidered Mexican dress, complete with a feathered fan and long earrings. Our friend S was as hot as the red dress she wore when we started to play Charades. She guessed so many of the clues -- and so quickly-- that she was dancing in her seat.

We had two guessing games-- one to guess the number of candy corn in a big cellophane bag, the other to guess the number of plastic spiders in a smaller cellophane bag. Now you'd think that those types of games would be too "corny" for adults? So wrong. Everyone had fun with it. We had gifts for the winners (the person who got closest to the correct number). And the person who was the farthest away in each game got either the bag of plastic spiders or the bag of candy corn.

In our local bookstore last week, I had found a book on Halloween traditions, recipes, "spells," and folklore. One of the chapters explained the ancient written "runes symbols." I copied each of the symbols (on separate pieces of pumpkin-shaped papers) then wrote the explanation of each rune on the back of the paper. The papers had sticky-backs, so I could display the runes on cardboard. Everyone studied the symbols, picked out the one that "spoke to them," and then read the explanation on the reverse side. It was interesting and fun, without being competitive.

Speaking of competitive, the ladies (once again) won in Charades. The final score was 29 to 26. This was the least number of points that the men have lost by, so far. But that's because the women's secret weapon had to leave the party early-- for another Halloween party. (Didn't I tell you that Halloween is very popular down here?) Anyway, A & D had to leave before we started Charades. Usually, A is the best player on our side-- she always knows all the songs, all the movies, and all the television shows. When our friend K heard that A had to leave for the other party, she said "Can the ladies win Charades without her?" (Well, we won by just three points, but a win is a win.)

The Groucho eyeglasses were a hit with the men, but they didn't want to keep them on. I also had black plastic hats with green hair "growing" out from the rim... a few of the guys wore those, but not for long. Our neighbor R took one look at his choices of either the Groucho eyeglasses or the black hat and he went home (next door) and came back with his own Indiana Jones-style hat. Which was a good thing, because one of the movies the women had to act out was "Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom" -- which we guessed without A being here because the woman acting it out kept pointing to R's hat. (A would've gotten those clues without having to use the hat as a visual aid.)

There were so many desserts on the table... all with a Halloween flair. I had Halloween paper-plates so everyone could take home some of the leftovers. I used to put out just paper plates and plastic utensils for these parties... till I realized how many beautiful dishes I had that weren't getting used. Now we use only china plates, real silverware, real glassware... all the good stuff. A little more work (but it all goes in the dishwasher) and it's fun to mix and match everything. I've bought extra silverware sets that I keep for parties-- right in Target and Wal-Mart... very pretty ones that didn't cost a fortune.

As party favors, everyone left with a book (a mystery, of course, since it's Halloween) and a little goodie-bag. The ladies got Halloween pot-holders and a pumpkin or ghost-topped pen that lights up when you write. The bags for the men had a Frankenstein or ghost light-up pen, with a bag of spiced/roasted peanuts. I try to pick out books for everyone that I think would suit them. So far, no one at our parties has asked for a different book (and I always have some in reserve for just that reason). And, everyone got to keep the Halloween accessories that they picked out when the party started. Everyone signed the guest book and left smiling... and asking when the next party will be.

Way after midnight now. The house is all put back together... dishes and glasses washed and put away, dining room chairs back where they belong, the kitchen is clean, the wet-bar is clean, and I've even vacuumed already. I hate to wake up the morning after a party and find the remains of the night before. And tonight was a fast clean-up-- I ate about six of those little chocolate mice, so I probably cleaned up in record time. (I'll be doing extra exercises tomorrow to pay for those mice, but they were worth it.)

Speaking of time... the clocks get turned back an hour this weekend. Which my husband did after the party broke up. So when we wake up in the morning, the clocks will have the correct time. Which means it will be getting dark earlier. Oh well... it's still summer here, as far as I'm concerned. It was very hot outside during our party, but the air-conditioning kept it comfortable in the house. I hope the trick-or-treaters get great weather tomorrow as well.

For as long as we've lived here, I don't ever remember seeing the kids having to put jackets on over their Halloween costumes. Which is a good thing. I remember when my sister and I were kids (living in NY) and Halloween was usually cold enough that a jacket was necessary. The store-bought costumes that we got in Woolworth's were usually not roomy enough to have a jacket underneath, so jackets or coats had to be added on top of the costumes. I don't think Walt Disney would have approved of wearing a brown corduroy coat over a pink Sleepy Beauty costume.

Oh well.... it's getting late now.... and it's time to call it a night. All the cats are sleeping, Gracie is sleeping... and my husband has been sound asleep for nearly two hours. I guess the chocolate-mouse-buzz is wearing off because I'm starting to yawn. There are more chocolate mice in the kitchen. But the thing to do is to walk straight to the bedroom without making a detour towards the mice. Which I will do. Honest.

"Death by Desserts" Saturday Night

It is 6:00 as I type.... everything is set for the party and our friends will be getting here around seven o'clock. Without fail, every time we have a party, I ask myself "Now wouldn't it be something if everyone forgot all about it and no one showed up?" So far, that hasn't ever happened.

I have Groucho Marx masks for the men tonight-- you know the ones with the black eyeglasses, the bushy eyebrows and the mustache underneath the nose. In a fit of silliness this afternoon, I took one of those and put it on one of my Victorian lady statues-- the one that's way on top of the bookshelves in the living room. She looks hilarious-- so let's see who notices her first.

The temperature today was near to 100 degrees. Very hot in the sun. I was finished with all the cleaning and setting up around 3:00 and I sat outside in the sun for a few minutes. Actually, I fell asleep for about 20 minutes... didn't sleep well last night and I needed that nap so I wouldn't be yawning tonight.

My "costume" is both nice and ridiculous. Who else in the world wears black stockings and red shoes besides Minnie Mouse? And that's who I am for the night. Black skirt, red/pink/white polka-dot blouse, official Minnie Mouse ears (complete with polka-dot bow) from DisneyWorld. And of course-- black stockings and red shoes. I laughed out loud when I looked in the mirror. I found a wide red belt in my closet, to complete Minnie's look. As I said... only for a Halloween party would this outfit work.

My husband is wearing one of his Hawaiian shirts and a pair of shorts. He's either a lost member of the Beach Boys or "The Birdman of Clear Lake" (since that wild shirt has birds all over it). Hopefully, he will put some shoes on before our friends come, or I'll have to be extra-careful not to let Minnie's red high-heels catch one of his bare toes.

The cats are all in the screen-porch and have been there since noon. I fed them just now... their special treat of Fancy Feast canned cat-food, which they love... so maybe they'll forgive me for making them stay in the porch all afternoon and through tonight. Gracie is in the laundry-room, and I put a folding gate by the door so she can see out into the kitchen. Every few minutes, I hear one lonely bark.

That's about all I have time for. I've got to get the coffee-urn going. It makes 42 cups of coffee. Between all of that caffeine, and all the chocolates and desserts that will soon be on my dining room table, we should have one interesting game of Charades here tonight.

Pumpkin Soup, or Close To It

I just got back from walking Gracie around the subdivision. We were out for nearly an hour and I lost count of how many soupy pumpkins are out there. Downright scary, which of course, is perfectly fine for Halloween. However, the temperature today is close to 100. Those once-fresh pumpkin faces are caving in from the top down. By the time Halloween rolls around come Sunday, those wilting pumpkins that I saw today will be just a pile of pulp.

Not only will the homeowners have to scrape them up off the porches, but they will have to wear a mask to keep the pumpkin-pungent odor away, and wear gloves to keep the bugs and slugs away from their skin. Not a pretty sight. The rule down here is if you want pretty pumpkins on your porch to stay looking like pumpkins, then leave them the way nature grew them-- faceless.

In this southeast Texas area, if you want a carved pumpkin out on your porch for Halloween night, then it's best not to carve into it till Halloween morning. Trick-or-treaters aren't allowed to go door-to-door down here till 6:00 in the evening, and the Halloween-night curfew ends at 8:30. Which means people have all of Halloween day to get their pumpkins carved into happy-smiling faces or boo-scary faces.

Speaking of "boo"-- have you heard of being "booed" for Halloween? My neighbor V did that to us last Halloween and the year before and I thought it was just one of her neighborly things to do. I read in this morning's Chronicle that being "booed" by a neighbor is an honor indeed.

What you do, to a favorite neighbor, is put some trick-or-treat candy and a special little Halloween gift into a paper bag and set it on someone's porch by their front door. Then you ring the bell and run away. The one doing the "booing" is supposed to get away from the door quickly, so the Halloween gift-bag will be a surprise to the "booee." However, being that my neighbor V lives right next door, and my husband's study has windows over-looking the front walkway, he saw her as she ran away from our porch. Actually he saw just her feet, and V always wears the most interesting shoes, so it was easy for him to say "That must be V... no one else would wear those shoes."

Personally, I won't be doing any "booing" this Halloween. Everyone coming to our party will be leaving with a special cache of gifts, plus we'll be giving out surprises during the party. In other words, I am all "booed" out for this Halloween.

Speaking of the party... I think I'd better go have another look-see into my closet. The outfit I had planned to wear has a very long skirt and long sleeves. Not exactly what you want to be wearing when the temperature is near to 100 degrees outside. Even with the air-conditioning on in the house full-blast, a little hot-flash seems to find me when we're having a party. So I think it would be better for me to have shorter sleeves or no sleeves at all.

As we usually do on Thursday nights, we watched The Apprentice last night. I knew Elizabeth was going to be fired at the end of last night's show. Talk about not being able to make a decision... it was painful to watch. And she didn't like the advertising concept her team came up with... so why did she go along with it? It was wrong from the beginning... they wanted an ad campaign that would touch people's heart-strings, not test their fear-threshold.

And, as we watched Trump last night, I realized that we'd be missing next Thursday's show because we'll be at the Manilow concert. Now... let's see.... do I sit home and watch Trump, or do we go downtown to see Manilow. No contest! Sorry, Mr. Trump, but next Thursday-- you're fired. (Just for one night.)

Barry Day... Just a Week from Today

The weather today is glorious...... hot and sunny without being broiling-hot. I hope this weather holds for the rest of the year. With maybe one or two cool days thrown in just to make sure we're all paying attention.

Just when all the commotion ended at our house, with the bathroom shower remodeling, the neighbors across the street have their own project going on. Two cement trucks have been to their house within the last couple of days. They must be adding a huge patio because the cement is being taken to the back of their house, not the front. Those neighbors will be at our Halloween party on Saturday, so I'll have to ask them what they've been up to. Just plain old curiosity on my part. AngelBoy is frustrated with the noise again-- his tail keeps slapping against the carpet every minute or so. I can hear him from his hiding place underneath the fainting sofa in my sitting room.

Lots of advertisements in The Chronicle about the up-coming Barry Manilow concert in downtown Houson next week. "One Night Only." Which is all a true Barry fan needs... just name the night, Barry-- we'll be there. We're going to the concert with our friends A & D and J... five of us in the car, my husband driving. And three of us (me and A & J) are Barry-maniacs. I guess my husband will just ask the three of us to sit in the back seat. This way, our singing/dancing-in-our-seats will be contained in the back of the car, and my husband and D can ride with some degree of sanity in the front seat.

My husband and D have been to other Barry concerts with me and A. For the last Houston concert, A & I couldn't sit still during the ride to the concert, and we couldn't stop talking about the concert all the way home. Needless to say, my husband and D just looked at us and thought we'd lost our minds. But this concert, we're adding J to our little Barry-party, and he is just as nuts over Barry as we are, so this should be an event to remember.

A few years ago, Manilow came to the Houston Rodeo for a concert. My husband and I were in the audience, and so was J with other friends (although we never did find one another during the show). Poor Barry..... Manilow and the rodeo just wasn't a good mix. Neither for him nor his fans. We all had to sit through countless displays of animal cruelty, which is what I called that rodeo. (Can you tell it was my first -- and last -- rodeo?)

Grown men running after calves to knock them down and tie their feet up. More grown men attaching a sled filled with hundreds of pounds of dead-weight to mules, and watching them try to pull it. That's when my husband and I walked out of that show-- when one of the mules couldn't pull the weight and his knees buckled. I swear, I wanted to cry. Then they had pig races, which we didn't see. Heaven only knows what they used to get the pigs to run around a track.

After that, we kept asking the workers at the rodeo arena when Barry Manilow's show would begin. Every blessed one of those cowboys said "Barry who?" I wanted to stomp on their hats. But finally, finally, the rodeo powers-that-be started the concert, and they drove Barry out to the center of the arena in the back of a pick-up truck. Thankfully, the lights were dimmed, but Barry's true fans can see that man blindfolded. (Note to Barry: no more rodeo shows, please.)

Next week's concert will be at The Toyota Center. And the seating is set up in-the-round, with the stage in the center. And, if the seating map on the Internet can be trusted, we will have front-row seats. Be still, my heart. The three of us (me and A and J) are all set... we'll be wearing Barry shirts, watches, bracelets. I'll be holding my hardcover copy of "Sweet Life" in the hopes that I can get Barry to autograph his book for me. This will be my third try... I hold the book, and I get my husband to keep a pen in his shirt pocket so I don't have to fumble in my purse when Manilow says: "Is that "Sweet Life" that I see you holding? Well, let's get that woman up here so I can sign my name on that book for her."

As my dear friend Blanche would say: "From your lips to God's ears....."

My husband and I went to a Manilow concert in Houston during the first couple of years after moving here. We had front row seats. Front row! I swear, I was able to count Barry's eyelashes. At the end of the concert, Barry came to me and held my hand. Held my hand! And could I speak? Did I thank him for all the years of beautiful music? No. Not a word came out of my mouth. (And I didn't have my copy of "Sweet Life" at that concert!) But Manilow held onto my hand anyway. Just for a few seconds. Long enough for me to look into his eyes, but not long enough for me to faint. Talk about not being able to sit still. My husband and I got home from that concert after midnight. I wanted to call everyone I knew back in NY to tell them all that Manilow had touched my hand. But I didn't.... too late for such a phone call.

Today is Thursday.... the concert is a week away. Can you tell that we're (I'm) getting a little anxious here? I think the only thing that's holding me together is the fact that we're having a Halloween party on Saturday and there are always last-minute details to take care of.

But come next Thursday.... we're going to see Barry!

Don't Slam the Door!

That was my thought as all of the workers went in and out of our front door during this entire shower-remodeling project. But of course, I didn't say that. (You know how men are-- they never listen anyway.)

The good news-- the shower in the master bathroom is all done. Plumbing leaks all taken care of, old shower ripped out, new shower and glass doors installed-- done, done, done! And, as I've said-- we lucked out with such a great home-improvement company. Everyone they sent here was on time, all the time, and worked cleanly and efficiently. They promised they'd have this whole thing finished before the day of our Halloween party, and they were true to their word.

And now that it's over, tomorrow will be the first day in the last eight that the door will not be slammed. AngelBoy will be happy... he can stop slapping his tail against the floor or his favorite chair, which he was doing two seconds after each door-slamming. When the workers first came to the house, he'd meow in a low groaning way that he has when he's annoyed with something. (Such a prissy little thing, this cat.) He's used to a quiet house. Come to think of it, so are we. But sometimes, noise is just unavoidable (as in workmen) or just plain fun (as in our parties).

I got out of the habit of slamming doors many years ago, mainly due to my Aunt Dolly. If you slammed a door in her house, she'd make you go back to the door that you slammed and close it again-- quietly. So after a bunch of times doing just that, I quickly learned just not to slam a door, or a drawer, or a cabinet-- anything. It's a habit that's stayed with me. If my Aunt Dolly had been in this house during all of this bathroom remodeling, the workers would have been re-closing the doors all the time, or she would've broken them of that habit. (Or they would've probably just walked out the front door and not come back in!)

I wonder what she would've done with the one worker who chewed tobacco the whole time he was here and used the commode in the master bathroom as a spittoon. Ever seen the inside of a spittoon? Neither had I, but I did see what that commode looked like after just a couple of spits. Not pretty. But I was good-- I just looked the other way, and that man cleaned it all out before he left. (Of course, I cleaned it again after he went home for the day.) Nasty habit, that chewing tobacco. Why in the world anyone would want to have a mess of tobacco-stuff inbetween their gums and the inside of their cheek is just beyond me. But what do I know? I'm just a transplanted city-girl.

Nothing else really to write about today... I spent the whole day here, except for a quick run out to the grocery store early this morning. Just couldn't wait any longer-- there wasn't a piece of fruit in this house, and that's not a good thing. I needed a banana-fix. So while I was out, I picked up extra soda and milk and coffee for the party on Saturday. Everything is set for that.

Now that the bathroom work is done and no one is in the bathroom or the dressing room, I can go through my closet and figure out just what sort of "costume" I will wear for the "Death By Desserts" party. I have something in mind, but I have to see what's hanging up in the closet. Surely there is enough there so I don't have to be running out to buy something.

Oh... the faux fox jacket from QVC was delivered yesterday. They had me on a wait-list, being that it sold out the day it was aired on TV, but I guess their wait-list is just a formality. Sure wasn't much of a wait. They must have a warehouse filled with extras. The fox jacket is gorgeous... fits like a dream... and is so soft and pretty. Now-- all I need is a good cold day this winter to wear it. (Yesterday was around 96, so when I tried it on, I had the air-conditioning on full-blast.) Surely... there will be a few days this "winter" when I can wear it.

This weekend is the turning-back of the clocks. Isn't that right: "Fall - back, and Spring - ahead?" I think that's how it goes. I wish we would all just leave the clocks right where they are. I don't think they ever change the clocks in Arizona. I have an aunt and uncle and cousins living out there... I never know what time it is when I telephone them. So I usually just call in the middle of the afternoon here, to be on the safe side there.

I'm rambling on and on about nothing. Like the old Seinfeld show. Time to say goodnight, Gracie. Or goodnight, Jerry... whatever the case may be.

Tuesday's World According to ShadowBaby

Ever since I hung those paper-honeycomb pumpkins from the ceilings (for the Halloween party this weekend) my baby cat (ShadowBaby) has been trying his best to figure out just what they are. This morning, I found him on the floor in the breakfast room-- he was on his back, four feet up towards the ceiling, right under the spinning pumpkin as if he was ready to catch it should it fall. It was spinning because the air-conditioning was coming out of the vent-- wonderful, unexpected surprise to see them twirling in the air. I guess ShadowBaby thinks so, too.

One morning, I found him on top of the refrigerator, just staring at the paper pumpkin hanging from the ceiling in the kitchen. I got him down from there quickly, and he hasn't been up there since. I had this picture in my mind of ShadowBaby jumping from the top of the fridge to the top of the paper pumpkin. Which wouldn't hold him, of course, so both cat and pumpkin would go crashing to the tiled floor. I'd imagine the honeycomb-pumpkin would make for somewhat of a cushion, but I doubt ShadowBaby would be holding onto it as he fell.

The other two cats haven't been all that interested in the Halloween decorations. AngelBoy happened to be underneath the one that's hanging in the kitchen as it started to twirl one night when the air-conditioner clicked on. The crinkling noise from the honeycomb-paper startled him and he ran out of the kitchen, into the dining room, and hid underneath the table. He peeked out from underneath one of the chairs to see what was up there. He wasn't impressed, and he hasn't walked under that pumpkin since. I don't think Rusty has even noticed the decorations-- the only thing in his line of vision is his food bowl, and if something can't be eaten, then he tends not to waste time with it.

ShadowBaby is the most loving, friendly and curious of our three cats. Rusty (oldest cat) is downright cowardly; AngelBoy (middle cat) is cautious and prissy. But ShadowBaby, right from day one in this house, has been the imp. He's the cat who is in the middle of everything and must try to help with whatever I do. Whether it be snapping the ends from the green beans or wrapping holiday gifts, he is right there, underfoot or near my right arm. And at night, he starts out sleeping by my feet and ends up on my pillow every morning. Such a sweet cat... without a doubt, the sweetest cat we've had. And the easiest one-- he will adapt to anything-- doesn't care about the color of his food dish (AngelBoy) or the location of the litter box (Rusty).

When Halloween is over and the pumpkins come down, I will start decorating for Christmas. I sort of breeze through Thanksgiving, without decorating at all for that holiday. We go to our friends A & D for turkey-day. And A has everything already decorated for Thanksgiving. I decorate for Halloween, she decorates for Thanksgiving, and we both go all out for Christmas. Both of us are having Open House Christmas parties this year... on different weekends.

I always start the Christmas decorating in November because I have so many things to put out. There is a little table-top tree for each room... from 12"-high trees that sit in vintage sugar bowls (which I decorated myself) to a 4-ft-high aluminum tree that we found in an antique shop a few summers ago. I was going to re-sell that aluminum tree and make some money on it, but when I got it home and put it together, I just couldn't part with it. That tree came with the vintage color-light-wheel, which I didn't want, so I sold just that and made enough to cover the cost of the tree and then some.

So... right after Halloween, as the pumpkins come down and get stored in the closet, the little trees will be taken out of the storage closet and set around the house. And, as it happens every year, Gracie (the dog) follows me from room to room watching where I put each tree; Rusty doesn't notice the holiday decorations at all; AngelBoy will take a nap under the table-top tree that goes in our bedroom every year (that tree is trimmed with tiny fans and shoes and purses and AngelBoy just loves it). As for ShadowBaby, he will follow me every step of the way, from the storage closet to the spot where each decoration is placed. He will inspect every tree, sniff the ornaments with his tiny nose, touch one or two very lightly with his paw. As if to say "There! That needed to be moved over just half an inch!"

When the big tree in the living room goes up (the day after Thanksgiving) then Gracie and AngelBoy and ShadowBaby will go into that room and walk towards the tree, which always reaches the highest point of the cathedral-ceiling in there. And like clock-work, we will see their three faces looking at every inch of that tree, beginning with the bottom-most branch and scanning upwards till their eyes get to the tippy-top. Gracie will lie down next to the tree, AngelBoy will go underneath it, and ShadowBaby will be walking around the tree, using his paw to adjust the bottom branches till they look just right. And Rusty? He will most likely be sound asleep next to his food dish. Some things, regardless of the season, just never change.

Anyway... no piano lesson today. I had to cancel it because the bathroom guys will be here with the new marble enclosure for the shower. Finally, finally... this will all be done.

Early Voting .... and Goodbye, PorkChop

We tried again this morning to take advantage of the early voting set-up in the local library. Not a chance.... the lines were again snaked around the building. And the library parking lot, with enough spaces as a shopping center, was completely filled up. Not that we would've parked anyway--- we didn't want to wait out in the 95-degree hot sun on that line.

We're hoping that the early voting line is extra-long because the library has just one or two voting machines, which could make even a short line take forever. On Election Day, when the voting machines are set up in the courthouse, there are over a dozen machines and the voting goes fairly quickly. Anyway, we'll keep trying... but I have a feeling that we'll end up going out on Election Day.

My husband and Gracie went around the park for their usual walk this morning, and found out from neighbors that one of the dogs we know had passed away. His name was PorkChop. Funny name for such a serious dog. (Come to think of it, we know the dog's name, but not the people's names.) PorkChop was a basset hound. Long and low to the ground, and ever so slow. Poor PorkChop could hardly run, but he did try. There's a bayou that runs down the middle of the park that's in the center of our subdivision, and it was a sight to see PorkChop running towards the bayou with his ears flopping and his short little legs plodding along. That dog loved the water. The bayou isn't that deep, because for sure PorkChop would've sunk to the bottom like a lead weight. I can't see how those short little legs could've held that long stout body above water.

PorkChop's owners are still walking around the park twice a day... I saw them this evening when I walked Gracie. They were on the other side of the bayou and I don't think they saw us. Both of them were walking with their heads down, most likely thinking about and remembering PorkChop. I can't tell you how many times we would see that couple just standing on the walking trail, waiting for PorkChop to catch up with them.

I don't know how old PorkChop was, but I'm sure he was with that couple for many years. Somehow, you can just tell when a dog has been with its owners for a good long time. I wonder how long it will be till PorkChop's owners start walking around the bayou with a new puppy.

Every time an animal passes away, the owners always say they won't get another. But they usually do. Once you've lived with a dog or cat in your house, it's hard to get used to a home without the sound of four little feet walking behind you. After trying to vote today, we stopped at the bank and the teller who waited on us was one that I hadn't seen for a few months. The last time I saw her, she told me that she had to put their cat to sleep. (Such an odd, quaint expression.) This morning, she told me that she's now "a new mommy to two little kitties." Not one, but two. She said getting two was her husband's idea. He told her they'd keep one another company and not be too much trouble. (Now... where have I heard that line before...)

That was about the day here... not being able to vote... not seeing PorkChop plodding around the park on his usual walks. But the sun was out, the temperature was high, the sky was blue, and the hummingbirds are still out at the feeders in the backyard.

We went to Babbo Bruno's for lunch and sat there going over the list for our Christmas party. Invitations are all written out and addressed now... party plans have been made (which I won't go into here because I can't spoil the surprises for our friends who read this). This week's Halloween party is all set-- everyone has RSVP'd and there will be 24 of us.

And remember the British gentlemen that my friend F and I met at Einstein's Bagels a few weeks ago? He and his wife will be coming to the Halloween party and joining our Charades group. I haven't met his wife-- just spoke to her over the phone for the first time yesterday. She sounds like a very pleasant lady. She told me that she's looking forward to our "Death by Desserts" buffet. She said "Of course, everything on your table will be non-caloric?" Of course, said I.

Okay, so that was a little fib. But I couldn't sleep... and late last night, I made two small signs that I will place on the dining room table for our Halloween party. On one half of the sign is a purple witch. On the other half are the words: "Abra-kazam, abra-kazee... sweets* on this table are calorie-free. *This curse ends at midnight." After all, I am a woman of my word. I went back to bed after that and slept like a baby.

Sunday... Sunny Here, Rainy There

We just drove back from Kemah-- the little waterfront village on Galveston Bay. We went to The Crab House for lunch and when we sat down, it was sunny, hot and bright. By the time we put half of our meals into plastic to-go boxes, it started to darken up and drizzle. The sky opened up and it started pouring as we drove out of the parking lot. Timing is everything.

So much for our plans of walking around the boardwalk and feeding left-over bread to the ducks and catfish. And there are hundreds of huge catfish around the boardwalk by the Kemah restaurants. More often than not, my husband will say to me: "All I need is a net... we'd be eating catfish for a month." I've tried catfish on more than one occasion since we've been living here. (I'd rather have salmon or red snapper.) In fact, during our first year down here when we lived in League City, my husband brought home a live catfish from a local catfish farm. I remember he called me on the phone that afternoon and told me not to worry about cooking-- he said he would take care of dinner that night. I remember telling him that I love a man who cooks.

That evening, my husband came home carrying a huge plastic bag filled with ice, water, and the biggest catfish I'd ever seen. And the catfish was very much alive. "It's still moving," I told my husband. "Not for long... where's my fishing knife?" That's about when I went weak in the knees. (And before that, I'd always thought that line was only a quaint expression. You really do get weak in your knees, to the point where you think your legs won't hold you up.) I told him he was not going to kill a fish in my kitchen. "Fine... I'll go out on the deck." Which he did... and came back twenty minutes later with two large filets on a platter. He broiled the fish, I made a big salad. I don't know how I forced myself to take just a bite of that cooked catfish that night, but I did. All during dinner, I kept shaking my head and asking him "How could you?!" And of course, my husband sat there, so proud of himself, and said: "I thought you love a man who cooks?!"

As we drove from Kemah back into Clear Lake this morning, the sky got brighter. No rain-clouds here, just blue sunny sky and lots of sun. We had planned on stopping by our local library to take advantage of the early voting and avoid the crowd on Election Day. As we drove into the parking lot of the library, we saw the line of people snaking around the building. Timing is everything. I guess we weren't the only ones trying to avoid the Election Day crowds. We decided not to join the long line that went nearly around the rear of the library and doubled back towards the front of the building. The hot sun can broil you down here when you're walking on a concrete parking field. So standing on a line for over an hour on hundred-degree concrete till the library opened wasn't an option we were willing to take.

Oh well. The library will have early voting during this entire week, so we can just drive by there another day. I have a feeling that more people will be voting in this election than in the past few years. Between Oprah constantly telling her viewers to get out and vote, and the MTV network screaming "Vote or Die!"... it's going to be an interesting contest between Bush and Kerry.

I still take exception to Edwards for bringing up the subject of Cheney's gay daughter during the televised debate. Stupid Edwards, standing there with such a benevolent smile on his face, telling the world how much Cheney and his family loved their daughter. I sat there wondering how Cheney would respond to Edwards, and he was ever so gracious in his reply-- he just thanked Edwards for the "kind words" concerning his family.

Politcs. Politicians. There must be a better way to find qualified people to run for office in this country. Don't get me started. If you ask our thirteen-year-old friend C about this election, she will tell you that my husband should run for president. When I asked her why (while my husband sat there blushing) she told us "Because he's smart, he's honest, he loves animals, and his motto is No Excuses, Only Results." (Obviously, I never did tell C about that poor catfish in our League City kitchen years ago.... and I won't mention it now and take away her vote for my husband.)

The sun is still out here, and it's a pretty day. I've been reading "The Talented Mr. Ripley," by Patricia Highsmith. Wonderful book. I didn't see the movie, so the story is all new to me. (Books are always so much better than the movies they turn them into, anyway.) So I guess that's what I'll be doing this afternoon-- reading my book. I can't get interested in the World Series-- without the Yankees or the Astros (or the Mets) in the Series, I just don't much care who wins now. (My apologies to Red Sox and Cardinals fans.)

Saturday at the Museum

Downtown Houston has wonderful museums with thought-provoking and enlightening exhibits. We spent part of this morning and all of this afternoon at the Houston Museum of Natural Science. We saw three exhibits-- "The Dead Sea Scrolls," "Tibet: Treasures From the Roof of The World," and the Planetarium's film "Secrets of The Dead Sea."

The museum had actual fragments of the scrolls, protected under glass with dim lighting. The scrolls, "the oldest surviving version of the Old Testament," were amazing to see. To think that those handwritten fragments have endured for over two thousand years. The scrolls were discovered in 1947 by accident-- a shepherd boy threw a rock into what he thought was just a hole in a cave. The rock soared down into the cave and the boy heard the smashing of pottery. The scrolls were hidden in large covered urns made of timeless pottery, buried in a forgotten city.

The film at the Planetarium (housed within the museum) showed the Dead Sea as it was filmed from space. They showed the star patterns as described in the Old Testament.... just as they were then, of course, so are they now. There is no life in the Dead Sea-- not a plant, not a fish, not a living thing. (The salt content of the Dead Sea is 33%, so I guess that's why.)

The Tibet exhibit was breath-taking. Scores of priceless embroidered costumes, crowns, jewelry, Buddhist sculptures, ceremonial artifacts. And there was one case with a collection of three-bladed knives. Three blades, which symbolized the ousting of hatred, ignorance and greed... the three downfalls of mankind. The handles of the knives were so impressively ornate--- gold and copper and encrusted with precious jewels. There were magnificent tapestries and garments, gorgeous silk, embroidered with pearls and tiny jewels.

The museum has wonderful gift shops, with ever-changing displays to coincide with the exhibits. They had a beautiful display of jewelry from both Israel and Tibet. I found a sterling silver band inscribed with Hebrew letters, reading: "I am my Beloved's, and my Beloved is Mine." (According to the insert in the box, that quote is taken from Solomon's Song of Songs, Chapter 2, Verse 16.) A simple band of sterling silver, with this ancient lettering flowing all around the band. And, as it usually happens with me, when something catches my eye and "speaks" to me, it fits just fine and feels just right.

I was particularly moved this morning by the "Community Rule," as written in the Dead Sea Scrolls. I can't remember the exact wording now, but in general, it was written that people should be kind, and should refrain from bad language and bad conduct towards one another. As I read that translation of the ancient lettering, I felt sad that not everyone on this planet has listened to that rule in the last two thousand years.

After spending most of the day at the museum, we went to Niko Niko's-- our favorite Greek restaurant near downtown. Niko Niko's, for as long as we've been going to it, has been a favorite of mostly everyone else in the downtown area. Always crowded, but always worth the wait. Just this past summer, the owners remodeled and enlarged their restaurant. It's still crowded, and you still have to wait, but it's definitely worth it. No matter how large they become, and no matter how many tables and chairs they put in, they will always need more room. We came home with half of our dinners--- portions are huge, and you really can't finish an entire meal there.

After Niko Niko's, we drove to another favorite downtown spot-- Hank's Ice Cream. A tiny ice cream shop located on one of the streets behind the new football stadium. And there really is a man named Hank, and every time we've gone there for ice cream, he has always been behind the counter. This man has such a gentle face, with the kindest eyes. And he loves what he does-- making ice cream. Handmade, homemade, always the best, always so fresh. My husband and I read about Hank's Ice Cream in The Chronicle. I think it was in Ken Hoffman's column. (Hoffman is originally from New Jersey, living here for years now, and writes an eclectic column for The Chronicle.) Anyway, even though we'd eaten enough at the Greek restaurant, we couldn't leave the downtown area without a stop at Hank's.

So that's been the day... and a rainy one at that. Perfect day to spend inside a museum. There's always something to see there, rain or shine, and my husband and I love museums, anywhere, any weather. My only complaint about the downtown Houston museums-- they always have their air-conditioning units on super-high-Alaska-frigid. After our first visit there, so many years ago now, I've learned to always bring a sweater or shawl with me. A few summers ago, we saw an IMAX movie about Antarctica in that museum... all those glaciers, all that ice--- even with my sweater on, I sat there shivering as I watched the IMAX-sized ice fields. (Proof-positive that this once-northern city-girl is now a southern belle at heart.)

Friday Gospel According to AngelBoy

Too noisy, too many people who don't live here, too much going on around here today for AngelBoy, my middle cat. The sensitive one. The gorgeous little blue-eyed boy-cat who will not eat out of any other dish other than his blue plastic food bowl, nor use any litter box if it isn't blue.

Poor thing is having a rough time today. Not only is the workman here (painting the new sheetrock wall in the closet and (!) the entire closet) but our lawn guys were here as well, along with the neighbor's tree service. Between the electric sander making noise in the closet, the lawn mowers howling outside, and the buzz-saws pruning the neighbor's trees, AngelBoy had no place to hide. I had to keep picking him up and reassuring him that his little cat-world wasn't coming to an apocalyptic end. He's right now underneath the fainting sofa in my sitting room. All of my husband's shirts are draped over that sofa, being that his closet had to be emptied because of the work on the master shower. So I guess AngelBoy feels protected underneath the canopy of shirts. I haven't heard a meow out of him in over an hour, but every few minutes I can hear his tail slapping the carpet in frustration.

This cat definitely does not like noise. I can't even blast my Barry Manilow CDs in this house because that blue-eyed cat will have a hissy-fit. So Manilow has to sing his heart out at a more reasonable level if AngelBoy is inside the house. (My apologies to Barry.)

I nearly over-slept this morning, after not getting much sleep during my husband's snore-fest last night. I opened my eyes this morning to find ShadowBaby purring in my ear-- he was curled up on my pillow. As my eyes focused on his golden cat-eyes, I realized that the sun was out. I looked at the alarm clock and saw 8:15 in little red numbers. Just as I was about to close my eyes again and enjoy the purring, I remembered that the carpenter would be here to finish the work on the closet.

So here I am, no worse for wear, with about five hours sleep. Of course, my husband slept very well. He didn't even hear himself snoring. I don't think the snorer is ever disturbed... it's always the snoree who is walking around like a zombie the next day.

This zombie has been hanging up Halloween decorations. Big paper-honeycomb orange and black pumpkins. The kind of "vintage" decoration that folds flat-- but open it up and clip the ends together and you have a wonderful orb of crape-like paper that makes a wonderful crinkling sound. I've got them hanging up in the living room, dining room, breakfast room and kitchen. And the ones that I hung from the air-ducts twirl around when the air-conditioning clicks on. And that crinkle sound is magical as the air passes through the honeycomb sections of the paper. Sort of looks like an orange and black disco ball, without lights. They all look very festive, very Halloween-y.

I also moved the drop-leaf table from the TV room into the living room. I put it behind the sofa... our sofa is in the middle of the living room, not up against the wall. So having that table there for the party will give us extra seating. Usually, we use the screen-porch tables for over-flow seating for our parties, but I'm planning on keeping Gracie and the cats out on the porch for this party. I can't have friends going in and out of the porch with 'the kids' out there-- too much of a chance for the cats to get frightened by the (hopefully costumed) guests. (And all of our friends know that in this house, dog/cat-safety is Rule #1.)

I've also been phoning some of our friends who haven't responded to my "RSVP" on the Halloween invitations. Mostly everyone responds right away... but there are always a few stragglers. And as soon as they hear my voice on the phone a week before party-time, they say: "I know why you're calling...." So far, there will be 21 of us... I'm still waiting for call-backs from three couples.

Everything is going along on schedule... both the work on the bathroom shower and closet, and the Halloween party preparations. As long as all of the workers are gone at least two days before this party, I will be perfectly content. So will AngelBoy.

Too Early In the Morning After the Astros Lost to the Cardinals

It is two o'clock in the morning as I'm typing this. I don't think I've slept for fifteen minutes since I got into bed around 11:00. My husband is in the bed, sound asleep and snoring. Gracie is on her blanket in the corner by my husband's side of the bed, sound asleep and making low growling sounds in her doggy-dreams. As I got out of the bed, ShadowBaby curled his little cat-self into a ball on my pillow.

Rusty and AngelBoy are asleep and quiet on the screen-porch. So that leaves me. And I am wide awake. I just ate a small banana... sometimes that helps me get to sleep. Guess it's the potassium?

We had both televisions on tonight... my husband switched between The Apprentice and the baseball game in the TV room; I watched The Apprentice on the small television in the breakfast room (without switching channels). I knew that Stacy wouldn't make it to the end of the season... too much chatter, too much whining and complaining. I just couldn't see her in one of Trump's top positions.

As for the Astros.... we were so hopeful when they scored first. Could Houston really be on their way to the World Series? I was in the breakfast room watching The Apprentice when the Cardinals took the lead. I can always tell when my husband's team isn't winning-- instead of hearing him say "YES!!" when his team scores a run, I hear nothing but silence. But I heard the crowd go wild, so I knew the Cardinals had taken the lead. During the commerical-breaks of The Apprentice, I walked into the TV room to ask my husband what was happening with the Astros. His answer: "They choked."

As the Cardinals won the game, we watched the St. Louis fans shout and cheer and we saw the Cardinals hugging and high-fiving and jumping in the air. Then my husband hit the remote... our local PBS station was showing a documentary about the career of Gene Kelly. We both watched it for half an hour. I think my husband was really disappointed with the Astros loss-- he didn't change channels once, and he doesn't much care for Gene Kelly. Not that he doesn't like him, but he doesn't like him enough not to click that remote.

Oh well.... at least the Astros got as close as they did. Close. But no cigar. There's always next year.

I am going back to bed.... I hope ShadowBaby will let me have part of my pillow.

The Morning After the Yankees Lost to Boston

And what else is there to say after that title? (Say it isn't so...)

My husband and I watched the Yankee/Red Sox game last night. Very sad. We sat there waiting for the Yankees to rally back with some runs.... we're still waiting, but the game is over. Needless to say, Boston fans went nuts, and we sat there watching them. Tonight is the Astros/Cardinals game. If the Astros don't get this game, it will be a sad night in Houston. But let's not go there. Let's go here--- GO ASTROS!! (From my lips to God's ears, as my dear friend Blanche would say.)

Tonight is also The Apprentice. I can tell you now that my husband will be clicking those channels, switching between 9 and 12. I told him this morning that I'll be watching The Apprentice in the breakfast room. He can click away all he wants in the TV room. I'll join him for the baseball game after Donald Trump says "You're fired!"

The workers are here once again... bright and early this morning. They measured for the new marble shower enclosure yesterday, so everything is moving right along with the master shower. At the beginning of this job, I let the contractor know that we were having a Halloween party on the 30th. I told him that I needed him to be done, completely finished, out of here at least two days before the party. "Not a problem," he told me. Thankfully, he is proving to be a man of his word. I've already given his name and number out to three friends.

I've been getting the Halloween party favors all set. Can't mention them here till post-party, because a lot of our friends also read "Sprinkles" and I don't want to be spoiling the surprises. The Halloween party is called "Death by Desserts"-- that's what I wrote on the invitations. The party invitations had happy-faced pumpkins on them, very nice ones from Hallmark. I had also stumbled upon some vintage Snoopy party invitations, so I bought those as well and used just one of them for my friend A. She loves the Peanuts gang, and Snoopy is her favorite. So she just might be getting Snoopy invitations for all of our parties till that package is empty.

Everyone will be bringing a "spooktacular sweet dessert," as I wrote on the invitations. Usually, with our Charades parties, we have a pot-luck dinner buffet. This time, just because it's Halloween, I thought a dessert buffet would be appropriate. Not too healthy, not low-calorie, but Halloween-appropriate just the same. So it should be fun to see just what kinds of goodies end up on our dining room table. By the end of the night, we should all be bouncing off the walls with a sugar-buzz and falling into a chocolate-coma sleep that night.

I also wrote "Come as you are or come as you dare" on those Halloween invitations. Hopefully, our friends will get creative and come in some sort of costume. Our friends A & D already have their Halloween get-ups in their closet. They went to a Halloween costume party last year, so they're already set for this year. I already have my outfit planned.... I don't know what my husband will do, but it will probably have something to do with those vampire teeth from Wal-Mart that he found yesterday.

In any case, whoever doesn't come here with some sort of costume will be given a gender-appropriate Halloween accessory to enhance their wardrobe. The accessories will add to the festiveness of the party and make for a hysterical game of Charades. I've lost count of how many Charades parties we've had over the years. We always play in two teams-- ladies against the men. And the ladies have always, always won. More often than not, we get the clue within the first 30 seconds. Drives the guys crazy. They sit there and look at us. And they think we're cheating. They've said we don't play fair because "all you women have some sort of girly ESP"-- that's what they tell us. Of course, that's true, but we never admit it.

At every one of our parties, as the scores for Charades are tallied up, the faces of the men always look as sad as when the Astros lose a game to Atlanta. And that's a sad look indeed, since the Astros fans hate to lose to the Braves. Maybe I should get together with the women before we have this Halloween party on the 30th. We should all rehearse that silly chant that the Atlanta fans do at their games. Then, when the ladies win at Charades next week, all the women can sit there chanting while holding an imaginary tomahawk.

Sheetrock City... Vampire Teeth

The workers (on time again this morning!) have pulled out the cultured marble shower enclosure, which revealed sheetrock underneath. There is now a pile of old sheetrock out front, a pile of new sheetrock in the back. They're pulling out the old sheetrock and installing new, then the new shower enclosure will go up. And my husband can then reclaim his shower.

And I, for one, cannot wait. Not so I can use it, since I prefer baths--- but so my husband can stop taking showers in my Victorian powder room (as all my girlfriends call it). The master shower is a double-size shower, longer and wider than normal... a man-sized shower. Translation: they can splash all they want and nothing outside of the shower door will get wet.

My Victorian bathroom (with vintage wallpaper filled with hundreds of turn-of-the-century women) has a normal-sized tub, which I surrounded with candles and beaded purses, as well as pictures and statues of turn-of-the-century women. Needless to say, I had to undecorate that room a bit so my husband could take a shower without drowning those poor ladies. As a result, my beautiful powder room is looking a bit more minimalist than Victorian this week.

My husband, at first, wasn't looking forward to using that bathroom for his showers. He's used to having glass shower doors, instead of a frilly shower curtain. After his second shower in there, he told me that it wasn't as bad as he thought it would be. He said he didn't mind all of those Victorian women staring at him as he showered. (As Lawrence Sanders wrote in his 'McNally' stories-- "Give unto me a blessed break.")

I didn't get out to look for a new remote for the television yesterday, with the workmen here most of the day, so my husband went out on that errand. He went to Wal-Mart, since that's where we found the remote last year. Not only did he come back with what he went for, but he did some Halloween shopping. (Don't you love a man who shops?)

When my husband came in the front door yesterday after his shopping trip, I was in the breakfast room. As I walked towards the front door, my husband opened his mouth to smile at me and what did I see? Vampire teeth. Made me laugh out loud. He tried to kiss me with those teeth in his mouth and I pushed him away. At a distance, they're funny. Up close, they're gross. He was so happy with my reaction that he plans to wear them for our Halloween party on the 30th. I told him that none of the other ladies are going to want to kiss him either.

He also bought a strobe-light that goes inside a pumpkin. It's an orange plastic dome with six lights on it. We put batteries in it and put it inside the largest ceramic pumpkin that I have in the living room. Looks pretty cool when the lights are flashing. Sort of like an orange mini-disco ball. Also in my husband's Wal-Mart bag was a glass candle-jar, filled with a large pumpkin-scented candle. When the candle is lighted, it smells like 15 pumpkin pies are baking in the oven. Perfect for the Halloween party as well.

As I said... I love a man who shops. My husband doesn't shop that much-- not enough time, not enough interest. If he needs something from a store, he usually walks in, gets what he went for, and leaves. (Men just don't understand the concept of looking around a little bit because you never know what else you'll see that will be calling your name.)

But I guess all the Halloween decorations in Wal-Mart were just too tempting to pass by without giving a look-see yesterday. Both my husband and I enjoy Halloween. It's fun to see the kids in their costumes and I love the look on their faces when they see the surprises we give out instead of candy.

If I know my husband, he'll want to wear the vampire teeth on Halloween, as he opens the door to the trick-or-treaters. The older kids will love them. The little kids will need post-Halloween therapy.

Tuesday's World According to Rusty

This last week hasn't been easy for Rusty, our oldest cat. And today has been particularly difficult-- too many people walking in and out of here. Contractor, carpenter, plumber. Too many voices, too much noise, just too-everything for this cat whose only daily mission in life is to sleep while the sun shines.

And the day isn't over. As I type, I'm waiting for the plumber to return, with the new hot/cold fixture for the shower. All the workmen on this contractor's crew have consistently been on time, which continually amazes me. Rusty, however, is not impressed. He's been moving from room to room, trying to find a quiet place to hide. He ran under our bed when the doorbell rang the first time this morning, but as soon as he realized that the contractor was headed towards the master bathroom, Rusty quickly left his favorite hiding place.

I tried to convince Rusty to stay out on the screen-porch today, but that didn't work. He meowed by the breakfast room door, pounded on the windows with his paw, and generally made such a fuss that I let him back in. No sooner had he decided to sleep in the laundry room, and there came the contractor, through the back door and into the kitchen. Rusty screeched at him. Silly cat sounded like a wounded owl.

Rusty is like the Cowardly Lion in The Wizard of Oz. He's a manx, so that makes him heftier than usual for a male cat. Take into account the fact that he can't let a morsel of food sit in the cat-food dishes (or even Gracie's dish) and that gives us a 20-pound orange and white Rusty. If there isn't a bit of food in his dish, he will just slowly walk over to the dog's bowl to see what's in there. And what a sight that makes. Gracie's bowl is deeper than the cat dishes, so just about all of Rusty's head goes deep into the dog bowl as he munches away. More often than not, I will catch him with his head in Gracie's bowl, and all I have to do is say "Rusty!!" and he backs himself out of the bowl and walks into the laundry room. Then he sits in there and sulks. Every once in a while, I'll hear a long sad sighing sound coming out of there. I swear, you would think that cat hadn't eaten in seventeen days.

Rusty is the oldest of the three cats, and older still than Gracie. So I guess Rusty thinks he's in charge of the animal kingdom here. When we first brought Gracie home as a 10-week-old puppy, Rusty out-weighed Gracie by about five pounds. He wouldn't go near that puppy, wouldn't even walk into the same room as the puppy. Rusty gave her a dirty look right from the start, meowed at my husband and I with the most awful sound. As if to say: "You realize what you have there is NOT a cat, don't you?!"

It took Rusty quite some time to become friendly with Gracie. About a year and a half. Now Rusty is either brave enough or hungry enough to stick his head into Gracie's food bowl and trust that dog not to take offense. Given the choice between brave and hungry, I think the latter is the reason. Rusty is always, always hungry. I feel like the 'food police' here, because I'm forever on alert so Rusty doesn't get too much food. But somehow, he always does. We found Rusty as a starving cat during our first year in Texas. My husband opened up a can of tuna fish for him... and Rusty has called our home his home ever since.

Well, the plumber is back now. Gracie is in the laundry room with Rusty. I put the dog in there because her barking intimidated the plumber, and I want that man to be able to finish his work in peace. Rusty, I'm sure, isn't thrilled to be sharing the laundry room with Gracie-- for the simple reason that I put them both in there with just a water bowl. Not a morsel of food in there for Rusty to steal. It's going to be a tough couple of hours for that cat.

Remote This!

It's a sad day indeed when the remote for the television isn't working. Sadder still because the Cardinals are just about to play the Astros, and the game between the Yankees and the Red Sox is now tied. And our remote stopped remoting. Flat-out stopped. We put in new batteries. Nothing. The look on my husband's face was priceless.

So there's my husband, sitting on the floor in front of the television, having to press a tiny button at the bottom of the TV, in order to get from Channel 9 to Channel 72 so he can see what's happening with both baseball games. That's a lot of individual presses on that teeny-tiny button.

Right this second now he's at his computer... guess that's quicker for checking the score than sitting there and waiting for the television to get from 9 to 72. Of all nights for the remote to break. And it just stopped for no reason. We just bought that remote last year. Don't they make anything to last longer than 12 months anymore?

I guess we'll be out buying a new remote tomorrow. No doubt we'll find one quickly, being that we searched all over Clear Lake last year for one that would work with our TV. Come to think of it, we found about eight of them last year and bought them all... kept the one that worked the best and returned all the rest.

Watching television with a man is a hard thing to do. They get hold of that remote and their fingers just fly. Before your eyes get adjusted to one station, they're onto the next station. Drives me crazy. Especially if we're in the middle of a show I really want to see-- like The Apprentice. Every Thursday night, before that show comes on, I grab the remote, get the TV to Channel 12, then sit on the remote. I just can't stand all the clicking around to other shows. I'd just rather click on the 'mute' button if my husband doesn't want to listen to commercials. But he likes to switch from channel to channel. So I sit there, telling him "Go back to 12!" every minute or so, because I just don't want to miss anything.

Back in the 1960s, I frequently heard women saying "I don't understand him! He's so remote!" I was young and just starting to date, so I didn't have a clue as to what they were talking about. However, when you match that dated statement with today's technology, it makes perfect sense.

Monday, Monday...

Doesn't that make you think of the old 1960s song by The Mamas and The Pappas-- "Monday, Monday..." I didn't like all of their songs back then, but that song had a nice melody.

My husband got back from NY late last night, and with all the fuss that Gracie made over him when he got home, I'm surprised that everyone on the street didn't come out on their lawn to see what was going on. If my husband is gone for three hours or three days, that dog will make the same big fuss. Her hero!

We were up early this morning... and out to the showroom to look at tiles and shower enclosures for the master bathroom. If it had been totally up to me, I would've just told the contractor to replace everything there with the same-style stuff, just newer upgrades. But, research being my husband's forte, he wanted to "consider other available options." When he told me that over the phone, I rolled my eyes towards the ceiling. I don't intentionally do that, it just happens. Must be a chic thing, because I never catch a man doing that. (And men hate it when we do that.)

So that's what we were doing at 10:00 this morning. Now I'm waiting for a call-back from the contractor, so we can compare the prices between the cultured marble and the fancy-dancy tilework that my husband found in the showroom. What we have now is the marble and it seems to me that it's been much easier to keep clean than tilework would be.

We also went to Home Depot to look at shower fixtures... my husband found one that he liked and we bought it. Less than 15 minutes for that. Unbelievable. I was duly impressed. And I guess my face must've showed it because my husband asked me if I was impressed by the quickness of his decision. I guess he knew the answer to that question before I answered, being that I hadn't been standing there rolling my eyes up towards the ceiling as he looked at the options.

The contractor sent the plumber by this afternoon-- and he showed up right at the stroke of 2:00. I am so impressed that everyone associated with this company is showing up on time! The plumber will be back tomorrow, with on/off valves and hot/cold fixtures for us to choose from. He'll get the plumbing work done so the contractor can send someone back to close up the wall that had to be opened up.

Then we have to wait a few days until either the new cultured marble shower enclosure is made, or the fancy tilework can be installed. I'm hoping for the marble enclosure... and if the price of the tile is going to be as high as I think it will be, my husband will probably pick the marble as well. Which means we will have exactly the same look as we had before, only newer. Fine with me... in my eyes, it's only a shower. And honestly, when my husband uses that shower, he's not standing there with his glasses on, so will he really be able to notice the details on the fancy-dancy tilework?

I cancelled my piano lesson for tomorrow. Too much going on here, what with having to wait for contractors and plumbers. And that's not a complaint, being that they are all showing up on time. From now on, for certain, I won't be calling any other company for home repairs. These guys have everything down to a science. I'll have to give their names to my neighbor across the street. She's been waiting for two months for a call from the handyman who did some work in her family room. He finished the majority of the work, but she's been waiting all this time to finish up some minor details.

After the morning's errands were done, my husband and I went to Babbo Bruno's for lunch. Love that restaurant! And everyone knows us... the waiters come to greet us, the owner/chef comes out of the kitchen to say hello and give us a hug. Family! (Only they're not related, so it's even better!) I don't think I've ordered from their menu in months and months. We always ask what the day's "specials" are, and I just order the fish special, no matter what it is. Today's fish was Chilean Sea Bass, topped with sauted apples in a very light creamy wine sauce. Roasted red peppers and fresh greens on the side. Totally delicious. My husband had his usual-- fettuccini in pesto sauce with steamed mussels. Portions are generous there, so we both always take half of our meals home. Which means I won't be cooking dinner tonight. Love that also!

And that's been the day so far. My husband is at work now and won't be home till after 8:00. I've got to walk Gracie before it's time to exercise while I watch Oprah at 4:00. When my husband walked Gracie this morning, she was jumping all around him as he walked to the front door. I know that she won't be doing her dance for me. In a few minutes, I'll be standing by the front door with her leash in my hand, calling her once... twice... possibly three times. And then she will walk slowly towards the door, and give me her lazy look that says "Oh... it's only you."
I am not Gracie's hero... I'm just the little elf who makes sure she always has fresh food and water in her bowls.

What Goes On in The Pumpkin... Stays In The Pumpkin

For the last five or six nights, when the front porch light is on, there have been shadows inside the plastic pumpkin that I have hanging up below the porch light. It's one of those open-topped plastic pumpkins with a handle-- the kind that little kids hold to collect their goodies on Halloween. Being that the plastic on this pumpkin isn't too thick, the pumpkin sort of glows when the porch light is turned on.

And for the past few nights, instead of merely glowing, that pumpkin is sometimes moving and shaking to a beat all its own. When I first saw it moving, I just thought it was dancing around a bit because of the breeze. Not the case last night, since the air was very still. I walked out the front door with Gracie to let her have a late-night walk on the front lawn and as I came back up the walkway towards the house, that pumpkin was dancing. Even Gracie noticed the commotion up there and she started to growl, so I got her into the front door before she could bark and disturb the neighbors. I grabbed the flashlight while I was inside and back out to the porch I went.

So there I was on the porch, round about midnight, flashlight in hand, brave soul that I am. (Total understatement.) The pumpkin was still moving. Not as much as before, but slowly swaying under the porch light. I could see shadows in there, but couldn't figure out what was causing it. I took the flash-light and tapped on the pumpkin. It stopped moving. I think I was standing there holding my breath, just waiting.

The pumpkin moved once again, sort of like a quick knee-jerk, and it bumped up against the house. I could've gone inside and gotten a step-stool so I could get up there and see just what was in there, but I didn't want to be up that close and personal.

I turned the flashlight on and got close enough to shine it right at the side of the pumpkin. I tapped on the pumpkin again. The moving shadows stopped. Then, very slowly, half of the shadow started moving towards the open top of the pumpkin while the other half stayed right where it was on the bottom. I backed up a couple of steps... and kept the flashlight aimed at the pumpkin's opening.

Slowly, slowly, the shadow kept moving up.... and what do I see? The green head of a lizard. His head came straight out of the pumpkin so he was staring at the underside of the porch roof as soon as his head cleared the rim. Then ever so slowly, he twisted his head around and looked at me. I was close enough to see him blinking in the glare of the flashlight. I just stood there and stared at him... and he puffed out his pink throat.

Ah.... a lizard in love. The other half of the shadow still inside the pumpkin must have been his lady. Well, excuse me. I turned off the flashlight. Lover-boy-lizard stopped blinking and his pink pouch deflated into plain old green skin. We just stared at one another for a minute or two before I realized that he wasn't going to return to his lady-lizard until I gave them some privacy.

Now I wonder if I'll have to keep that pumpkin hanging up on the porch light till all the babies are born and weaned and able to face the cul-de-sac on their own?

To paraphrase that popular commerical for Vegas: "What happens in the pumpkin, stays in the pumpkin."

Saturday Stuff

Gorgeous, sunny, breeze-kissed, blue-sky day.... it's days like today when I wonder how in the world anyone could live anywhere else but right here!

The contractor showed up right on time this morning. What a guy! I have put his company's name and phone number in my book and I will be calling them for any sort of home repair from now on. And, of course, whenever we've found a good service company, we've always told our friends, and they tell their friends...

I spent part of today wrapping up Christmas gifts. I didn't realize just how much I had in all of those shopping bags. I thought I would have to do more shopping for my sister, but I had lots of little gifts in there for her. I found lots of little gifts for everyone, so holiday shopping for this year is done, done, done. Anything I buy between now and December 31st will be for next year. I hear you laughing... but remember what they say: "She who shops first gets the best stuff." (I just made that up. Not bad.)

While I was looking in the Christmas bags in the storage closet, I found two Halloween gifts for my little 13-yr-old friend "C." They were buried underneath her Christmas things, which can only mean that I bought them after Halloween last year. I had already mailed C a cute Halloween card with ghosts on it, and here were two Halloween gifts-- with ghosts on them. I called her house and asked her mom if I could drive over quick to give C the gifts.... and off I went and had a nice visit and watched C ooh and aah over the ghosts.

C is our special friend and she is just the most joyful little girl. She's 13 going on 14, not 13 going on 37. I met C years ago when I was a reading tutor at our local grammar school. She was one of my students and we just 'clicked.' When the school year ended, I continued to meet with C every week of that summer and we went to the library for books and then out for lunch. When my husband and I met C's parents, we all clicked and became friends. We've been clicking ever since.

My husband and I have taken C with us for afternoons out at the zoo, or a movie or just out for ice cream. We took her to our favorite restaurant for a fancy grown-up dinner when she turned 13. She is just a joy. And she has been a joy since the first day I met her when she was in the second grade... she's in the 8th grade now. Over all these years, C has met just about all of our friends and everyone agrees-- she is just a special little girl. My husband and I couldn't love her any more if she were our own.

My husband will be home from New York tomorrow night. I wonder if he realizes that every blessed thing is out of his closet and will stay out of his closet till the work on the shower is finished next week. I told him I had to clear out that closet, but it's a shock even to me when I open that door and find nothing in there.

I've been opening that closet door every day and spraying the open wall with bug-spray. I don't want spiders who may have made a home in the attic to discover the open wall and start to explore down here. As much as I've gotten used to the frogs and lizards in southeast Texas, the sight of a spider gets me crazy. All those legs-- they move so fast and you can never tell which direction they're heading. And of course, if my baby cat finds a spider, he will catch it in his mouth and carry it to me. ("Look at what I found for you, mom!")

So I'm hoping the ant spray that I found in the garage will work on the spiders as well. After all, spiders can't read what's on the can. And the spray certainly smells bad enough to kill more than just a tiny ant.

My friend A stopped by this afternoon. She and her husband leave tomorrow on a cruise, for their 25th anniversary. Twenty-five years. The "Big 2-5." We spent nearly two hours in my breakfast room, just catching up with everything that's gone on during the week. She's busy with her schedule, I'm busy with mine... no matter how we try to keep up, the days just disappear somehow. We talked about Thanksgiving and Christmas... she has everything set for Thanksgiving... I've got everything just about set for Christmas. We're both having Open House holiday parties (on different nights) and the invitations are all set. And she said the same thing I'm always saying-- once Halloween gets here, Thanksgiving and Christmas are just a heartbeat away.

I had planned to watch The Apprentice tonight-- they've been showing a re-cap of Thursday's show on Saturday night-- 15 minutes of re-cap, followed by the un-cut time in 'the boardroom' for the rest of the hour. I just peeked at the television guide and they don't have The Apprentice listed for tonight. I hate when the networks change schedules like that. And wouldn't you know it--- the one blessed television show that I like and watch, and it's missing from tonight's listings. All I can say to the network person who made that decision is "You're fired!!"

Now you know it's a really slow night for me in Clear Lake if all I had to look forward to tonight was the re-cap of The Apprentice. Not much happening today... just a lot of small stuff.

The Stepford Handymen

Just as in the book "The Stepford Wives," where everything is perfectly tidy and neat-- that's what I was faced with this morning. My doorbell rang promptly at 9:00 this morning and the two handymen there on my front porch were clean and neatly dressed and looked as if they had just shaved. Not only did they wipe their shoes on the mat outside, but they checked the soles to make sure they weren't bringing any clumps of grass or dirt inside. Bonus points! (I didn't ask them to do that, mind you.)

The result of this morning's work is that the wall behind the master shower has been stripped down to bare studs. They cut that wall down piece by piece, very neatly, without creating a mountain of sheetrock-dust. (More bonus points!) Definitely a good-sized leak in the shower pipes there. So much so that we were lucky that the carpeting wasn't ruined in the closet next to the shower, not to mention my husband's clothes. The owner of the remodeling company will be back tomorrow morning, to measure and take notes so he can make a list of everything that needs to be replaced in there. The plumber will be here on Monday afternoon at 2:00. My husband and I will be at their showroom on Monday morning to have a look-see at the cultured marble shower enclosures. Do you want a soap dish here? A shelf there? Maybe two? A bench to sit on over there? So many choices in such a big shower.

I spent most of this afternoon taking gifts out of my Christmas closet, wrapping and tagging them. Those are the gifts we'll give out on Christmas Day. As I went through the shopping bags, it was like Christmas for me-- I had forgotten some of the things I had bought for people. Happens every year. Who can remember in October what was purchased back in January or August?

Still to do-- the few gifts that I will be mailing out. I use catalogs for most of those gifts-- everyone we know has more than enough things that take up shelf space and need to be dusted, so I've stopped buying those types of gifts. We get a lot of specialty-food catalogs, filled with delicious holiday goodies... a lot of them made right in Texas. Those gifts are already ordered, set to be delivered during the two weeks before Christmas.

My sister and I exchange gifts for Christmas and our birthdays. Sometimes we have a theme, sometimes not. Such as the year my sister went to Paris for a weekend... for two or three Christmases after that, I kept finding cute things with the Eiffel Tower either embroidered or pictured on them. Of course, Paris had to be my theme for her for a couple of years. I found her a great pillow that was embroidered with the words: I'd rather be in Paris. Of course, the Eiffel Tower was embroidered onto that pillow as well.

I think I've Paris-ed myself out with that theme, however. This year, we decided to give just "stocking gifts," as my sister calls them. Nothing big, fancy or expensive... just little things that can be tucked into a Christmas stocking. My sister's Christmas stocking isn't tiny. So I've still got some shopping to do. My sister and I have had a gift-giving rule for the past four or five years--- we can't give each other something that has to be dusted. Which rules out everything that takes up space.

And what does that leave? Scented soaps, pretty candles, tea, notecards, memo pads, journals... anything that is gone after you use it or can be used while it's sitting around. My only exceptions to that rule are books. What would Christmas be without giving books? And my sister reads as much as I do. Probably more, since she doesn't have three cats and a dog. So when she sits down to read, no one is wagging their tail to go for a walk or staring at her with cat-blue eyes because he wants to go into the backyard to catch baby frogs.

Actually, speaking of the cats... they slept for most of this morning and afternoon. When the workmen were here cutting down that wall, Rusty and ShadowBaby ran into the porch and AngelBoy was hiding under the bed. It took me nearly 20 minutes to coax him out from under there. I wanted him out on the screen-porch with the other two because I didn't want to take the chance of him running out the front door if a workman went to his truck.

AngelBoy hated the noise of the work, but he also hates being under the bed. I think he just ran under there because he was so close to it when the doorbell rang. I finally got him out of there, by telling him we'd go out in the yard. Say what you will, but my cats understand what I tell them, and AngelBoy knows the words 'out in the yard.' However, being that I put him in the screen-porch instead of in the yard, AngelBoy now knows that mommy can tell a little fib now and again. (Isn't that a silly word? Fib. Past tense-- fub? Now I'm being silly.)

I watched Oprah this afternoon. She had the cast of 'Desperate Housewives' on her show today. I have to admit that I did watch part of that show one Sunday night-- not the first episode, but the second. I thought it was a little over-the-top, but I was just curious because The Chronicle had a huge article about it. But that's what I think about most night-time television-- it's all over-the-top, which is why I don't watch it. (My one exception to that rule is The Apprentice.)

Desperate housewives. And what are they desperate about? Keeping a clean house? Raising perfectly-behaved children? Making sure hubby is happy? Well, in my humble opinion... keeping a clean house is just a matter of being organized, and you either are or you aren't. Raising perfectly-behaved children--- no such thing, since there are no perfectly-behaved adults in this world. Striving for perfection will give you life-shortening stress. And most of today's children are being 'raised' by day-care workers anyway, so heaven help them all. And a happy hubby? Sometimes I think every man on earth just wants his favorite team to win either the World Series or the SuperBowl every year, his favorite foods to be in the fridge or on the table whenever he's hungry, and his wife to be ready for sex whenever he is.

Well.... no wonder we're all so blessedly desperate.

Thursday Night Update

The pouring rain of early this morning gave way to blue, sunny skies and it warmed up to over 80 degrees. Which is a 'cold snap' here for this part of the year.

The cats were happy... by this afternoon, the screen-porch was warm enough for ShadowBaby and the backyard grass was dry enough for Rusty and AngelBoy. Rusty just plopped himself down in a sunny spot. AngelBoy caught a baby frog for me. Before I get eMails from frog-lovers, AngelBoy never hurts the frogs-- he just catches them in his mouth and sits there till he sees me, then opens his mouth so the frog can pop out. I swear, I think that little cat just likes to hear me say "Yuck, AngelBoy, that is so gross."

The contractor for the bathroom work told me that he will be here tomorrow morning between 9:00 - 10:00. He was pretty definite about that, and he was here on time for the estimate the other day, so I'm not doubting his word. I've emptied out the closet that backs up against the shower that needs the work, so that's all ready. I think I'm handling this pretty well, considering they have to remove half a wall to get to the plumbing for the shower. When all of that is done, they will install a little 'trap-door' in that closet so they can get to the fixtures easily if there is ever another such problem. Why that wasn't done when the house was built is beyond me, considering how much thought went into the rest of this house.

I spent a couple of hours driving around to a few stores this afternoon, in search of just two more things I needed to complete the placecard gifts for Christmas dinner. That is so typical of me-- I'm not able to fix the problem with the shower, so I have to concentrate on fixing something I'm good at. And I am very good at setting a beautiful table for a holiday dinner. Today is the 14th of October, and I have the design for our Christmas table in my mind's eye. All is right with my little corner of the world. Except for the corner where the master bathroom shower sits, that is.

This weekend at Reliant Center in downtown Houston, there is a three-day International Jewelry Show. I had planned to go there tomorrow, along with my friends A and K. Because of this plumbing problem, I had to cancel. Instead of looking at jewelry tomorrow morning, I'll be looking at the inside of the wall between the master shower and my husband's closet. No comparison. Not even close. And the work to be done on that shower will be more than I would've spent at the jewelry show.

So that's been the day. Tomorrow and Saturday, while the contractor and plumber do the work on the shower, I will be wrapping up Christmas gifts for our friends who will be here for dinner on Christmas Day. I look for gifts all year long and put them into shopping bags in one of my storage closets. I always tell my husband that if I should get hit by a truck, he needs to make sure that everyone gets the goodies that are in those shopping bags. And I've made it easy for him-- every shopping bag has someone's name on it.

When my husband sees me adding a gift to one of those holiday bags, he asks me: "Which millennium are you shopping for now?" I tell him that he can laugh all he wants, but I've never had to rush around between Thanksgiving and December 24th in a mindless search for Christmas gifts.

Anyway... that's about the story for tonight. It's almost time for The Apprentice. Which means it's time for me to let the cats out on the screen-porch so I can watch that show in peace.

Rain, Rain... Go Away.... The Cats Have Cabin Fever Today

It is about 7:00 in the morning as I type this. I've been awake, off and on, since 3 a.m. Why is that? Because I have cats. A cat-loving person will understand. I will explain for the rest of you.

It has been raining steadily since yesterday afternoon. In this house, a rainy day means that my two older cats (Rusty and AngelBoy) don't have their usual afternoon and evening time in the backyard. AngelBoy doesn't like to get his paws wet, and Rusty is just getting too old and lazy to dodge the raindrops.

So that means that both cats stayed in the house and the screen-porch for practically all of yesterday afternoon and evening. Last night, as usual, I put Rusty and AngelBoy out on the screen-porch when I went to bed. Rusty woke me up around 3:00 this morning by pounding his paw on the bedroom window, which overlooks the porch. He did this because neither he nor AngelBoy likes being out on the porch when it's pouring down rain. I don't think they like the sound of the rain on the porch roof.

There I was, snug in the bed, with one cat pounding on the bedroom window and one cat crying pitifully out on the porch. Gracie started to growl, my baby cat (who sleeps on my bed) woke up and thought it was time to begin a new day. Of course, I was wide awake by that time. Who wouldn't be, with a paw-pounding cat playing "Wipeout!" on the window. (My husband is still out of town, otherwise I would've heard him say: "This is why we don't need any more cats.")

As usual with my cats, I gave in. I got out of bed and let Rusty and AngelBoy inside. They both munched on a little bit of food, then both found cozy spots to sleep. Rusty went to his blanket on top of the washing machine in the laundry room, AngelBoy went into my bedroom and curled up on Gracie's blanket. That poor dog wasn't too happy about that, but Gracie curled up on the other corner of her leopard blanket and went back to sleep.

And so, eventually, did I-- after checking eMails, having a small glass of orange juice, and reading a few pages of a book I bought for a quarter at the library's book sale.

My sleep didn't last too long. Gracie decided she didn't want AngelBoy on her blanket and she growled until AngelBoy took the hint. AngelBoy then jumped up on my bed. Which prompted ShadowBaby (the baby cat) to take offense. He dove into AngelBoy's neck, head first. Which made AngelBoy meow as if he had been struck by lightning. And there I was, at 4:55 this morning, telling ShadowBaby that a king-sized bed should be large enough for the two of them to find separate corners.

Apparently, it wasn't. ShadowBaby went after AngelBoy again, but only after AngelBoy started to play with the baby cat's tail. ("Mommmmm... he started it!") This time, AngelBoy jumped off the bed and curled up on the fainting sofa by the windows. Back to sleep I went. For about 40 minutes. That's when AngelBoy decided he didn't like the accessory arrangement on my dresser and he set about to redecorate... which made ShadowBaby jump off the bed and onto my dresser as well so he could add his own artistic touch... which made Gracie start to growl again.

I looked at the little red numbers on the clock radio. Nearly 6:00. I usually get up around 7. Close enough.

The cats have all had their breakfast. I've let Gracie out on the front lawn for a mini-mini-walk while I rescued The Chronicle from the spider plants. I have eaten a banana and had some juice. I read the headlines-- the Astros lost last night's game to the Cardinals, the debates between Bush and Kerry were just about a tie, the first four albums by The Beatles are being re-released in a 4-CD set, and the Galveston millionaire who killed his neighbor had thought of committing suicide (no great loss there).

It is still raining. Before I started typing here, AngelBoy did his Art-Carney-as-Ed-Norton routine to position himself in front of his water dish. He put his little cat-nose down to the dish and backed away. He looked up at me with those deep blue eyes of his. ("That water has been in this dish since last night.") -- This from the same prissy little cat who will drink three-day old water out of the backyard birdbath. Only if the sun is shining and the grass isn't wet.

It's going to be a long day.