So here it is. After Halloween and before Thanksgiving, a holiday vortex. 

I put away the giant pumpkin head with the sideways glance that looks like he is staking out the neighbor’s house. I took the mini skeletons from the mantle where they were practicing their favorite yoga positions.

I put the plastic bag over the dusty hag and moved her back to a basement rafter. I took down the Happy Jack door wreath, and wrapped and stored my collection of grinning pumpkins, pumpkin people and pumpkin-shaped candy bowl.

I put away the Halloween postcard that my sister sent me in 1983.

It only confused Sig anyway, he told me a postcard had come but had no idea what Shawn was talking about and maybe I could make sense of it.  It dawned on me he thought the 27-year-old postcard was current.

I hadn’t paid any attention to what was written on the card since I had only saved it for the illustration on the front. It was a breezy message about goblins, costumes and pumpkins with a mention of what was up with the family.

It is a curious thing to read something from long ago as if it were written today. 

It’s as if the cat is out of the bag.

 Instead of  “Happy Birthday, Happy Birthday, Happy Birthday to meeeee.”

John Philip Sousa aka The March King is 156 today. I, on the other hand, am 64.

Liam Freely is a data collection machine. At 2 1/2 months, he spends his waking hours looking for the new, the unexpected and the unpredictable. And it keeps him very, very busy.

He looks to the right.  

He  looks to the left.

 He looks straight ahead. 

Let’s get going— mooother! There are miles to go before I sleep.

What does a harried dog do after a hard day’s work burying bones and whatnot? There aren’t a lot of choices if you live with a family that never tunes in to Animal Planet, has cats and doesn’t believe in giving out table scraps. For crying out loud, we’re talking Table Scraps,  PEOPLE! It’s not some fancy feast night after night.  Besides everyone and his dog knows you don’t compost meat! Okay, breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out…

Hare Krishna Hare Krishna

Krishna Krishna Hare Hare

Hare Rama Hare Rama

Rama Rama Hare Hare

Photo by Wes Lyle, an artist of uncommon vision.

The folks at Susan Komen are creating a global mosaic, photos of people joined together to raise awareness about breast cancer. I just finished uploading a photo, it’s number 669. In the space of writing this sentence 5 more photos have been uploaded. Check back to see how many people get the message and as the Komen people say, watch the world turn pink.

Some people swore that the house was haunted. Ever since she had died, that kind of talk didn’t matter much to Bella. Anxious to find a place of her own, the little bungalow with the huge front porch looked perfect for her. She had already visited 3 other places – a loft downtown, a split level ranch and a duplex.

This place was the last one on the list. If it didn’t work out, she had no idea where she’d end up.   

She switched her suitcase from her right hand to her left before she started up the stairs.   When she reached the front door, she peered through the beveled glass window and saw two children curled up on a couch. She heard a woman’s voice over the sound of the television.

 “Frank, would ya get the kids and come to dinner. It’s ready now.” 

 The boy on the couch threw his head back and hollered, “Hey Ma, whatta we  havin?” 

 “Spaghetti and Meatballs.”

 Thank God, Bella thought. Italian. Without bothering to open the door, she   glided into the house.  

 Nothing was ever the same again after that.

PS: Submitted to the NPR 3 minute Fiction contest that ended in September. Writers were invited to send in original stories 600 words or less; the first and last lines of the story were furnished.

The Kansas City Star newspaper has a little filler space called Weird News which shows up on a regular basis when news is slower than usual.  It usually is talking about doofuses who have gotten apprehended by the local gendarmes for questionable activities. 

A man was put in jail because he had threatened to kill his wife. They gave him a phone call and stood within earshot as he got his wife on the phone. Then he proceeded to tell her that he was going to kill her.

Now there is a man who entirely missed the point.

Liam Cooper Freely is a healthy beautiful newborn baby. As his parents and extended family stand quietly and admire him, each is lost in his or her own private reflection. 

What will he be like when he grows up?

Will he find beauty in nature?

Will he do well in school?

Will he be passionate about reading?

Will he get along with other kids and be happy?

Will he have good taste in clothes? 

One person knows at a glance the answer to his question is a big fat yes.

How do they do it? Every fall the fashion industry in its big, blustery voice declares last year’s stuff, well — so last year. 

And in an amazing whirl of superlatives the hot new trends are announced that put a strangle-hold on holiday gift lists from coast to coast. Saavy marketeers that they are — they keep their messages short and sweet, the better to hammer ’em home.

You can say you heard about your must-haves here first, unless you’ve already read the September Glamour.  Their tips for updating your fall wardrobe? Buy a menswear jacket, add something sparkly or shiny and get yourself a cross body bag that can go over the shoulder.  To be a real trend setter – wear black and white separates, add socks, and rock an animal print with wedge booties.

This mother-of-all-fashion mags has over 2 million readers, most of them between the ages of 18-49. One of their most popular columns is Do’s and Don’ts.  Unsuspecting fashion victims and stars are caught in candid shots while they stroll along the streets of US cities.  A black swatch over the faces of the Don’ts obscures their identities in a haphazard way. Read the magazine from back to front and you’ll run across it without wading through the incredible number of ads.

So, this is the fashion industry’s dirty little secret. It takes grit to be one of the Don’ts and a lot of people just take the easy way to Do-ness. Can’t say that I blame them.

I hear a cross body bag calling me by name.