The weekend was spent in the typical engaged fashion. I obsessed over what I have yet to accomplish. I annoyed my sweetie by making him spend time with me. More importantly, I opened tons of gifts, displaying some of them with more rosiness to my cheeks than others.

In short, my kitchen will be well stocked for all my cooking needs. Of course, the Kitchen Aid mixer got dubbed "precious", so I begin to wonder if my affection for it was too obvious. Who wouldn't hug a Kitchen Aid?

It seems my days are filled with thoughts of what I need to buy or organize. I still advocate eloping. That is my advice to anyone who has fallen in love and wants to get married to that one person they can't live without.

I will admit that I have been lucky in that department. My sweetie has been very patient about helping me select presents. He even let me take over the kitchen. That may have been self-serving since I did make it a little tidier and then became inspired to play with some of our new toys. I made us some grilled cheese sandwhiches. I would have mixed up some cookie dough, but I didn't quite find a new home for my "precious".

These boring trivialities of thought should make my readers glad that I am not writing more often. Perhaps, they are not even checking in anymore. I suppose I should try to make more time to keep you updated on all the excitement in my life, but I fear that one cat story is pretty much just the same as all the other cat stories.

I got my first e-mail from the National Novel Writing Month website last night. The goal, of course, is to write 50,000 words in a month. I didn't finish last month's novel, so I can't start a new one in good conscious. I could, however, try to finish last years nanowrimo though with the wedding, fiche obsession, and house cleaning and reparing that I have on my plate, I will be lucky to put fingers to keys long enough to add 10,000 words over the course of the month. I am still pondering making that my goal, so we will see if I decide to add to my list.

I have been exploring the joy that can come when I listen that little voice in my head (or is it my heart) that tells me to do good things. Tonight I followed internal and external promptings to make time for my friends. I got a taste of the cake for my upcoming bridal shower as well as some warm fuzzy feelings from my first visit. The second reminded me that I don't have a lot of time left where I can visit so many friends at will. We will see what final conclusion this leads me to.

I have noticed a phenomenon that I can not ignore as I travel the approximately five hours between home and home. You know what I mean, don't you? Anyway, this phenomenon is that everyone thinks they are the most important person on the road, from the trucker who refuses to use his brakes when all the cars in front of him are riding abreast of each other and going slower than he is to the man in the Porsche who is zipping in an out of traffic even when it will obviously force someone else to slam on their brakes. Needless to say this is stressful to all the people on the road. It also could result in horrible things since you don't know what is going on in the cars around you as you make rash decisions.

Let me clarify a little. You have no guarantee that the person in the car you are cutting off is not accelerating, changing a cd, sneezing, or trying not to have a heart attack. One should never assume it is safe to change lanes when you don't have plenty of room to do so. The most important person on the road is really the person in the car next to you because you know what is going on in your car but not in theirs.

In other news, I just realized that I haven't posted any of my brief snippets of life to my website since sometime in July. I was wondering why some of my favorite stalkers seemed to be completely out of the loop. Some day I will find more time to regale you with stories of adorable baby girls who think I am hilarious, small children looking happy to see me (despite me being a stranger) in restaurants, cupcaking my friends' doors, and other such wonderful happenings when I find more time to breath. A little over two weeks and counting down...

The phenomenon of Halloween never fails to entertain. Luckily, I did not make one of those horrifying trips down High Street where the horrible realization that a costume must consist of skimpy panties, a tiny shirt, a filmy strip of a skirt, and wings. Instead, I helped my honey distribute candy to angels, football players, cheerleaders, and other varied cuties and their parents. This brings me to one of my wow moments.

Perhaps, I am just mean-spirited, but I have always thought that Halloween was a holiday for everyone to dress up as someone else and for children to get some candy. Despite my own penchant for candy eating and costume wearing, I do not deem it appropriate to go from house to house getting candy for myself. If I was taking my child trick or treating, I still wouldn't think that was okay. I might be a little disappointed that my kids were getting this huge stash, but I would also hope I had taught my children enough about sharing that they would be willing to share with me--just saying.

I mentioned this on the infamous facebook and got a few responses. One told me that the parents' getting candy is sharing. They may feel that way, but somehow I don't feel it. Surely, they could buy themselves a candy bar. If they are walking their child from house to house, they most likely aren't handing out candy on their own front porch, so it isn't really sharing for them to expect candy from every house they bring their child to. Does that make sense?

Another response informed me that they had given a piece of candy to an elderly lady who came trick or treating. That doesn't bother me. It does remind me of a joke that I believe is attributed to Andy Warhol about how we live our life backwards after middle age. I just think that people shouldn't expect anyone to be as happy giving candy to an adult as they are to a kid. Kids tend to be cute and truly grateful...