An early BOO...

Halloween is sneakin' right up on us. I don't know how much I'll participate this year. I usually like to dress as my favorite "witch" - a sort of modified Mary Poppins , anything from drapey velvet Stevie Nicks duds to striped socks, to loads of gypsy beads and skeletons, with a big black hat, and bright pink shoes with bows on them. Those were my wedding shoes. Really.... But I'm tired this year - or at least this week. It's like I finally let myself relax after Rick got home, and now I'm just exhausted from holding on so tight for two weeks. What a whiney baby! I have nothing to complain about, but still, tired is tired...

I cleaned out my closet yesterday, in preparation for the arrival of our new bed. Yes, the closet needed to be cleaned, along with the dresser drawers, nightstand, and very scary, dusty, under-the-old-bed. The new one is low, with no room for under-bed storage. I'm good with that, as I've read that it's bad feng shui to stash your junk under your bed. But moving it out of there meant it had to go someplace... much of it went to the thrift store, some to the kids, and some to the closet... And that's how I know exactly what's available for Halloween Costuming. Lots actually. So if I happen to snap out of it by next Tuesday, I'll be a very well-dressed witch. I know where my striped socks are, and I even have some very stylish nylon "tattoo sleeves" to pull on for extra warmth and shock value. Here's something you might not guess about me. I love tattoos. I have two of them, although I'm the first to admit they are rather small and timid tattoos. I'm working up to a great big lotus or something for my 50th birthday, if I can find a patch of skin that's not too likely to fall to earth in the very near future. That will make three, and most likely enough eternal ink on me...

How to tie this all together? I can't. As I said, I'm tired. But I'll tell you one more secret. I sat here to do the blog thing, with no idea what to write, and I'm please to note that the mere act of fingers on keyboard seems to conjure up a kind of writing magic. Words come out, almost on their own. Maybe it's the season, when the veil between the worlds is thin. And maybe it's simply the reason the real writers of the world tell us to "just write, just write, just write..."