A Small Victory

Get thee behind me, October

Is it really November 1st? I mean, I know yesterday was Halloween, but just the same I woke up with that familiar "Is it really November" panic buzzing in my head. This month begins my annual downhill slide into neurotic freneticism. Thanksgiving, Christmas shopping, the year is ending already. Add to this year's mix the fact that I'm supposed to complete a novel this month, my favorite boss is running for a position in a different court, this school program that is hanging over my head and you have a recipe for a nervous breakdown. I'm going to try to make this year different. I will try to slow down. I will try not to panic. I will try to do my Christmas shopping a little at a time, rather than save it all for the last minute.

I have learned so many lessons from the past. No holiday parties here. No elaborate decorations. No delusions of Martha Stewart-ness and Norman Rockwell Christmas mornings running through my head. No great expectations of cooperation and Stepford children behavior. I am keeping my Christmas fantasies on the downlow this year, and I think that will make my Christmas spirit improve. If you lower your expectations to the bare minimum, you will never be disappointed.

I am going to try to work out a schedule for myself for the month, as far as novel writing and shopping and seeing the Harry Potter movie 700 times go. I will not cave in. I will not succumb to the ghosts of November past who want to see me crumble under pressure.

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So anyhow, Halloween went rather smoothly. We had about 100 kids ring the bell, down a little from last year. And whoever said that parents were going to be more sensitive about their children's costumes this year didn't survey my neighborhood about that. There was enough blood and gore in these costumes to make another Exorcist movie. I'm disappointed that it was cloudy and I didn't get to see the full moon, but thrilled to no end that the Yankees tied the series up (I was asleep by the 3rd inning, sad to say) and I can continue to bother Anathea for at least a couple more days. And how bizarre is it to have the World Series played in November?

I'm going to get this Thursday started. I need to go outside and make sure my car is shaving cream and egg free and my pumpkins are still intact. Then I will spend the day at work pretending to work while I get in my 6 pages of novel writing for the day. Thank you, John, for being my writing buddy. You may want to scratch my eyes out with a fork by the time November is over. But that's ok, because then I'd have an excuse not to deal with Christmas.