Ready to fall

My husband is coughing away on the couch, chicken soup is on the stove and I am looking up crock pot recipes. Partay! Although it's been in the 70's here lately, I feel like autumn has arrived at our front door, complete with pitch black darkness by 6:30 pm and a strong desire to drink hot chocolate. I bought a can of hot chocolate mix on Monday and the powder must be cannibalistic, as there was nothing left when I went to make some today.

While I am loving the Indian Summer that SF enjoys in September and October, there is a (not so) small part of me that is looking forward to coats, boots and tights. TIGHTS! Up until 9th grade, I went to Hebrew school and had to wear a skirt every day. This necessitated tights in every hue imaginable. I can still picture my purple benneton turtle neck, matching striped black, purple and chartreuse skirt, paired quite fetchingly with my purple tights. Benetton and Esprit were my go-to's. I spent all my babysitting money on clothes (some things never change).



I have some serious reading to do this weekend if I am going to finish Friday Night Lights by Tuesday's book club. I wonder if I could just spend the weekend watching the TV show as a Cliffs Notes version? Our big Halloween plans this weekend revolve around a playgroup baby's first birthday. We're going for a family-themed costume, assuming that the mister is able to kick his cough. If not, I'll have to rage it solo with the babe. I finally got around to trying on his costume yesterday and found that it's a wee bit too small. Mama fail. It still looks pretty rad, if a little skimpy.

Maybe if I get this tool and give Mr. Monk little spirals of apple, he'll stop leaving tiny teeth marks on all our apples. He seems to rethink the whole biting into an apple thing ten seconds into it when he realizes he's only got two workable teeth on the bottom. Ah, but there are four coming in on top right this minute, so very soon everything will be free game. Watching him bite into lemons and limes might just be the highlight of my week. Obviously, he hates the taste, but can't stop himself from going back in. A masochist, just like his mom.

Speaking of masochism, I need to go out and buy an absurd amount of candy for Monday night. Last year we had over $100 worth and still ran out by 9 pm! Madness, people. At least this year I can put le bebe to work helping me hand it out to the sugar-crazed kiddos.