But I really love it when this happens:

Yeah, I know it’s not much of a snowstorm, and it likely won’t even happen today, but look at the promise of tomorrow, with six degrees of possibility, it. has. to.

The First Family we all want to be love is over at the NY Mag holiday gift guide.

(Really, they have nothing to do with the guide, but aren’t they adorable?

Yup.

AND, I bet Michelle is a gifted gifter.  Lucky girls!)

“The way the world has been enthralled by the contest is a message that the dominant sentiment, after the Bush presidency, is not so much anti-Americanism, but exasperation with the uses of American power and a concurrent belief that with adequate political will the superpower can repair its agenda for the greater global good.”

—

“The biggest economy in the world has a leader that the world can talk to,” said Alejandro Saks, an Argentine television scriptwriter. “There is the feeling that for the first time since Kennedy, America has a different type of leader.”

—

Well said, world.

And the American people now have a leader that we can talk to.  He said it himself: it won’t always be good news, but we’ll always get the truth.

The only difference?  It’s the most important Christmas since Jesus.

(And?  I’ve probably never thought about a single Christmas this exclusively for five months straight.  And I’ve definitely never wanted to stop thinking about Christmas this much.)

Unfortunately, last night’s nervous excitement didn’t make it any easier to get to the tree the polls this morning at 5:50.  Or to stand there among elbowy idiots.  Or be wrangled by screaming, ignorant volunteers*.  Or to stomach the queen who loudly waited just behind us with his boyfriend, who had no sense of personal space and at one point sidled up to my husband, to, I don’t know, cuddle?  He really made our morning.  Thanks, sexy!

My point is, while this election may have brought out some really nice things in a lot of people, the process of voting absolutely brings out the worst.  (Okay, maybe not the worst.)  The yelling and clawing (yeah, perpetuated by a particular poll worker) was a surprising display at this hour.  But some people will always try to skirt the rules, skip the line, and push their way through in a manner most unfitting this democratic tradition.

This is the line ahead of us in its calmer form, pre-6:00.  The crowd behind us filled up about three times the size of this group.

And there we stood at 5:55, 6:15, and 6:45, with about a hundred others, waiting to cast a ballot in the most important election since Democratic candidate Sliced Bread was elected in 1925.

Now all I have to do is hope that tomorrow still feels like Christmas, and not the doom and gloom of disappointment.

*(A while ago, I sent in an application to be a poll worker.  Hoping to be part of this election in a different way, I figured I’d volunteer. … Fortunately, due to legacy workers, and whatever else, my application was ignored and I do not have to spend sixteen hours with this gaggle of inefficient women today.)

Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

Cl-chomp.

Respectively, my apartment’s source of heat, my bi-polar hard drive, and the strange equine sound coming from the construction site across the street.  Together, the chorus of my day.

And though I hate them all, the first one signals fall and winter and all the goodies that come with.  Like today, my second or third favorite day of the year. (Yeah, yeah, I’m obvious: Birthday, Christmas, Halloween.)

However, I have to say, this year I’m somewhat of a Halloween delinquent.  I didn’t start the prep on my costume (or Eric’s) until last night, I didn’t buy any candy, and I barely have plans tonight.  Not my usual apple-bobbing self, for sure.

But the one tradition I did manage to keep is making Halloween treats for friends and family.  Finished last night, the peanut butter bars from Baked.

They’re no less delicious upside down, by the way.

Here’s Eric packaging them up.  Nice and easy: parchment paper and Halloween Orange tape instead of string.

Costume photos to follow, of a somewhat haphazard geisha and a burly lumberjack (in place of the planned Lucy (of I Love) and Ghostbuster (with home-built pack; no other way to go)).  Next year…

For now it’s time to go recycle the three-foot-tall stack of magazines trying to sell me Christmas crap already.

Wait!  Before you go, be scared by Eric.

But now that I’m all grown up, I don’t really know what that means.  Am I looking for my mother’s kitchen with the plaster rooster, floral wallpaper accents, and colonial dinette set?  No.

I just want that fall flavor.  That sense of warmth you get when you come in from the cold with ruddy cheeks, when you peel off the outer layers and get comfy, knowing Halloween is this week, and soon it’ll be Thanksgiving.  I’m missing that feeling of standing at the front door with a little chill, the only barrier between me and the cold, an aluminum door and some tempered glass.

So I’m thinking about things like bringing flowers in, hanging a many-shades-of-brown-and-yellow wreath on the front door, and getting a pumpkin.

And I’m toying with the idea of breaking some house rules (maintain flat surfaces, minimal living, one-tv-is-enough) and adding a baby flat screen to the kitchen. There was always a tiny tv in my mother’s kitchen.  The tv where we watched the news and Jeopardy, where the Thanksgiving Day parade flickered despite all attempts at fixing the antenae.

We all know you can’t go back home, but I’m wondering if this is one thing I can recapture: the kitchen as a place to hang out.

PROS:

TV = More cooking, more often.

Less eating out/ ordering in.

House smells nice like yummy food.

Able to watch It’s a Wonderful Life while cracking the annual peppermint bark.

There’s a tv in the kitchen.

CONS:

We become a middle of the country household with two televisions, going on ten.

Holes under the cabinet.

Ruined “clean” look in here.

I gain ten pounds.

There’s a tv in the kitchen.

—

This is the item under consideration.  Yea or Nay?

I’m finally breaking radio silence, with a photo of some very crackly cobs of corn.

Taken in Italy, Rome, San Giovanni piazza.  At the Cure concert, Saturday 10/11.

There will be unreliable posting.

It will likely not include words.

Why?

Because something came up.

Why haven’t I written and pre-fired enough posts to keep it hopping over here?

Because I’ve been busy I’m lazy.  (Hey! The first one is true, too.)

No, why on the no-words thing?

Because a picture is worth a thousand of them.

I hope you enjoy your many days without me (kind of like how you wish your significant other a “fantastic trip” when you’re not going; you want him to have a decent time, but not too decent - after all, you’re not there, so how good could it be?)

Yeah, so not quite like that.

See you in a few.

It’s a cool and gray here, and I couldn’t be happier that it’s Friday.

So, a little contest: guess how many jelly beans are in here (email me), and the winner (closest without going over) gets the sealed candy of his or her choice.

(If you crave jelly beans, fine, a new package is yours, but I’ve been eating these, so, you know, you might not want my cooties.)

11:30 seems like a good time to live, right?

This is now the view above my desk (designed by Eric, printed by Wonderful Graffiti).  And it’s the perfect sentiment for how I’m trying to live these days (appreciative of each [okay, most] moment[s]).

Sounds cheesy?  Fine, but there will be more on that later.

In other news, soon it will be my favorite day.  Until then, I’m gorging on candy corn.

UPDATE: Wow, you guys have a serious sweet tooth.  Candy contest will close Sunday, October 5 at 5:00 pm.