We are well into October, one of the months that makes me happiest, for the spookiness and the opportunity to eat mounds of pumpkin bread, and also pumpkin spice ice cream. I wish it were cool, but it’s supposed to be 97 degrees out today, and I don’t know if it will ever rain again. Still though, the mornings and evenings are nice; I’m still mostly wearing shorts, but I no longer sweat profusely while walking Paul, and that’s an improvement.

There are guys planting purple flowers in our backyard, and also other things. This is the last round of yard improvements from our big re-landscaping, and I think it’s going to be really pretty when it’s all done (indeed, it was already pretty, and Dave and I were stunned to see how long the list was of new plantings – we had to get them to cut back, and this morning one of the designers scratched his head and said, “I honestly thought we left you with less, before.”) The anticipation of being done with a big house-related project has made me think about how true it is that, when you own a house, there’s always something that needs doing, something that you’re learning to live with whether you like it or not. People said that to me when we bought this place, but it didn’t really sink in till later, though I remember the day we moved in, seeing how dirt had collected on the outside windowsills and thinking, Damn, this is my problem now.

What else? My summer garden is fallow, and I should really go in and plant some stuff for fall. The trees are making beautiful shadow patterns on my desk right now, and for the past week or so I’ve been working through page proofs on my new novel, Invitation to a Bonfire. Proofs make me feel crazy, because by now I’ve read the book so many times (so many tiiiiimes!), but good news: I still love it. I’m really excited for the world to get to read it, too. (6/5/2018! Sooner than you think!)

There are other things happening; there are always things happening. There are, of late, always senators to call, always new disgusts to air. But I am going to drink a cup of coffee and get to work. I am going to hope you are amused by my extremely nerdy tech joke (which, credit where credit is due, originated in my brother-in-law Ryan’s much nerdier subconscious as a dream; sometimes Sunday breakfasts out are the best times to think up cartoons). Two-factor authentication! It’s probably the minimum with which we should protect our hearts.