Nothing has changed, except I’ve miraculously pulled out of  the death spiral I was in last week, and I can see the sun again. What the frak was that about? I don’t think I’ve felt so hopeless and hurt in a very long time- and there didn’t seem to be much that precipitated it, so I don’t know what I could have done to prevent it. But let me assure anyone who doubts it, when you are in the grips of that kind of darkness, it’s a scary and terrifying place. What a helpless feeling.

Halloween is over. I hate Halloween, and I’m glad to bid it farewell for another year. I don’t dig on the macabre and the gory, and I don’t get the desire to decorate one’s house with death. The latin tradition of Dios de las Muertos seems so much nicer- celebrate our ancestors, make little dioramas, and go perform some service in a cemetery. As far adults getting dressed up, unless you can go balls to the wall like Heidi Klum and her Seal, it usually just looks sad and kind of lame. If you dig on the Halloween festivities, we can still be friends- look at me and Mo (she digs on the eve of hallows!)- but I’ll pass on the hooker vampire getup and smearing fake blood on my neck. You have a good time though!

What the passing of October does mean, (beside me being another year older) is that I can start thinking about decorating for Christmas. Christmas makes me very happy. We’re not going to have much this year, but I’m so not worried about it- and maybe that’s a good thing. I don’t have to stress about things, just enjoy the small stuff. I’m thinking really hard about passing on Fakey Fakerson this year, and getting a real tree again. The only drawback would be I can’t put a real tree up in the middle of November- it would be tinder my the time we started on the 12 days of Christmas. So I don’t know yet… but real spruce sure would smell sweet.

I met with a professor last week, in the middle of my dismay and malaise, and am only now processing what he told me. He was shopping me for his grad program- and it was incredibly flattering to have him approach me and set up a meeting. He was very complimentary, and very encouraging of my writing. By the end of our lunch meeting at a local cafe, he offered to be my mentor, despite my sticking with my original grad program plan, and he is encouraging me to pursue a PhD at some point. Nice to be praised so highly. I’m still thinking about some of what he suggested.

Shhhhh… I don’t want to say this too loudly, but Bean has found something of a grove, and we’ve had a few mellow, easier days in a row. Now that I’ve said that out into the ether, I know I’ve just assured myself of two consecutive days of hell, but I seriously needed to document his excellent behavior this week. He even got frustrated with a game today, and instead of throwing it and biting someone and hiding, he stopped, poured the pieces out, and solved the problem. I was holding my breath, and had to wipe a tear away. Stupid eyes.

Today I had two hours to myself while Abby was at school, and had no assignment due for at least 24 hours, so I treated myself to a walk around Sephora. If you’re a beauty and make-up jumkie like me, you know how the angels sing as you walk through those back and white striped magical aisles. I couldn’t buy anything, but that wasn’t really the point. It was just wonderful to walk alone and look and ooh and aah and gasp at all the holiday pretty. And there was some serious pretty too!

Tonight after I got the kids in bed, I cleaned out the kitchen cupboards and reorganized everything. Little House has a much smaller kitchen than old house, and a great deal of my stuff is in the garage because there is nowhere to put it here- but I still can’t find things. Have I mentioned organizational skills are not highly ranked in my skillset? I think being organized is kind of like Dark Matter to Creativity. They cannot coexist in the same body. Or at least that’s my working theory. Either way I found my Wilton icing decorating tips and cookie cutters, so hooray! I can start baking! Now if only I could find my enameled cast iron. You’d think something that big and heavy would have turned up by now, but nope.

Has anyone tried sugaring instead of waxing? Are they yanking my chain on it hurting less? Not that it matters, here in the outer darkness of the love world- but a silky smooth leg makes me happy, too, ya know.

I’m avoiding the election returns like the plague. Oh, I voted- I just cannot bear the suspense of watching what happens. I want to read ahead, so instead I just wait until morning. You knew that already if you get my twitter ramblings. Because you need more of this crap?

Tomorrow is my brother’s birthday. Happy birthday medium brother- Have I told you lately that I love you? I guess naming my son after you wasn’t enough of a clue, so hey, I love you! And I wish I was there to sing a horribly off-key rendition of Happy Birthday and eat Mexican food with you. Or meatloaf- you could have my piece.

Laundry Mountain has been summited, for the first time in weeks. Yes, folks, it’s all done. It’s almost all put away. That’s how you know I’m back to myself- The laundry is always clean, but only when I’m on top of things does the laundry inhabit individual rooms, drawers and closets, instead of forming a heavy coverlet on my bed under which I sleep and have to mine for the kids clothes each morning. I hate laundry mining. The birds spontaneously sing and rainbows of glitter spring from the sky when all the laundry is folded and put away.

Last week, I found a foodbank to take all the extra food storage that was just sitting out in my garage. Like most Mormons, I had a year’s supply of everything- which is awesome. But when you cook less, for less people, with more picky eaters, in a much smaller kitchen, and don’t have giant room just for your extra-apocalyptic food storage, you worry that you’re not turning it quick enough. And there is nothing worse to a Mormon than food storage going bad or not getting turned. So I donated about a gajillion pounds of food, and they even came and got it. It was awesome. And now I don’t have to feel guilty.

Now I have three essays to write for the professor who thinks I’m the bees knees. I have six pages to write for my post-colonial Africa class, and I have a test in another class on Friday. Also, I think the kids have conferences this week- I have to check. So that there was my lull. Onward.