This weekend was not especially full, but seemed exhausting. This may have been due to listening to three World Series games, only one of which we won. There’s always next year.

I finished my Halloween socks — on Halloween morning. (More on those later this week.)

I came up with a Halloween costume — on Halloween afternoon.

I may have chased down some trick-or-treaters who needed to take some of my candy. (Their parents were very excited by my 100 Grand bars.)

Rudi and I slept in on Saturday. I repeated this feat on Sunday.

We went out for tacos and hot drinks (two different restaurants).

We admired the trees or, rather, the leaves of a pocket park.

I went to the farmers market and bought lots of fall’ish foods: white turnips and dried beans and a pie pumpkin and sweet potatoes and broccoli, among other things.

I resumed, but didn’t finish my Robert Galbraith book, but did finish a collection of poetry.

I rode my bike to Georgetown to the library, to a cafe, and to the riverfront.

I dealt with late-inning baseball stress by poaching quince and cleaning the fridge.

I cuddled cats.

I missed the rain.

Weekending along with Karen at Pumpkin Sunrise.

This was my thought process for this year’s Halloween costume:

I’ve been a bit uninspired about Halloween this year, and since it was happening over the weekend, there was no real pressure to get dressed up for work. But that also meant that as of Friday night, I was still mulling over what I could be and coming up empty.

So when I got up yesterday, I thought, I’m not going to bother dressing up right now. Maybe I’ll figure out something in time for trick-or-treaters. But for now, I’ll just put on my Halloween socks and the one shirt I have that has someone in disguise:

[Camouflage, from Threadless.]

However, then I thought, wait, I could do that. I do not have a bee costume. But I could totally be someone pretending, badly, to be a bee! A surprisingly meta idea, for me!

So, to my shirt, I added dark leggings, my yellow petticoat, my yellow sneakers, and Rudi’s yellow & black armwarmers.

It was a good start, but insects have antennae and wings, neither of which I had a quick fix for.

You would think deely boppers would be the sort of thing I would own, but somehow I am lacking any. (In retrospect this may because they are often attached to plastic headbands made for people with normal-sized heads and my desire for one does not outweigh my desire not to have a headache.) I did have a headband, though, and figured I could probably fashion something out of straws or the like. But, then, when I was hunting for a black headband, I opened a box and discovered dowels that had come in a pair of shoes. So I tucked those into my hair and used the bottom of the headband to keep them in place.

What to do about the wings, though? I contemplated a quick cut-out of paper, but thought they’d be too floppy. Then I mulled cutting apart a padded mailer. That thought led me to the roll of air pillows that had come in a package a few weeks back. (It was a gift sent via Amazon, of course, who couldn’t fit something into an appropriately sized box if that was the only one available.) With some help from Rudi, a piece of Scotch tape, and an extra-large binder clip, I had some make-shift wings. (Yes, with a little more planning, I could totally have created a sleeve for the pillows to hide their ugly branding. But I wasn’t trying to be a bee, but just a “bee,” so it was okay for it not to be perfect!) As a bonus, they fluttered very nicely in the breeze!

So there you have it: A last-minute Halloween costume taken from my closet and random bits of stuff I hadn’t thrown away. And a lot of joy from seeing people’s reactions to my costume (and for not having bailed on coming up with something).

Do you have any honey?

This past weekend was a pleasant one. On Saturday, knowing I’d need to rise early the next day, I slept in. When I woke up, I made some tea and toast and moved to the couch to begin reading the new Robert Galbraith detective story, Career of Evil. It’s a creepy novel, appropriate for the season, I suppose. Eventually, though, I decided some activity (and sunshine) was in order and changed into my bike togs.

As you may remember, the past couple falls I’ve done the Coffeeneuring challenge, the seasonal pairing of cycling and hot drinks. I like trying new places as part of participating, so when, during the week, I read about a place called The Pretzel Bakery across the city, I decided that would be one of my destinations. After making a few exchanges at the library, I biked down to the river, across the Mall, and over to Capitol Hill. The bakery is a walk-up adjacent to a ball field in the Barney Circle neighborhood, clearly a boon to business. I sampled each of their wares, as well as a hot Nutella drink with marshmallows before pedaling home, racing the setting sun.

On Sunday, a friend’s husband was running the marathon, so we rose early (for me) and went down to Rock Creek Park to cheer him on. (Marcus is very fast, so you can’t linger in bed if you want to catch him at the part of the course we live near.) I won’t lie; I was practically asleep still, and it was probably only the chilly rainwater seeping in the hole in my sneaker that kept me upright for the half hour this entailed.

We hit the farmers market, put in several hours at the garden for our fall cleanup day, and dozed with a cat for a bit (that may have just been me), before rallying late in the afternoon. A chai bar moved into the neighborhood last year and, despite being intrigued I’d never managed to make it over there (they close early in the evening). Rudi and I decided to go check it out. The shop, which also sells Indian spices, makes their various chais in front of you, so we sat at the beautiful counter and sipped our spicy beverages.

We finished the night by meeting up with our marathon-running pal, who still needed to replenish several hundred more calories, for ice cream at our local shop. It was nice to catch up on how he and his wife have been and was a perfect ending to the weekend.

Weekending along with Karen at Pumpkin Sunrise.

This weekend was a holiday one for me, so we headed north to see family and friends and …

1. Left the beaten path: We ended up leaving on Saturday morning rather than Friday night, so the trip allowed for an alternate route when road signs warned us of impending traffic snarls. We took to back roads for a while, which sent us through Newtown, Conn., and past this creamery. When you see an ice cream stand on a beautiful October Saturday, there’s really not even a question about whether or not you should stop. My cone is cinnamon and Oh Snap! (pumpkin with gingersnaps). Yum!
   
2. Enjoyed fires in the fireplace.
3. Made scones with my dad.
4. Chatted with my folks.
5. Met Karen for lunch.
6. Read Scarlett Uncovered, which Dad found at his local library for me.
7. Helped with some chores.
8. Slept.
9. Knit on my Halloween socks.
10. Admired New England foliage.
    

Blogging along with Karen at Pumpkin Sunrise and Carole at Carole Knits.

This weekend included:

• The final Friday night concert/picnic at Yards Park for the season.
• The first rain in what feels like forever.
• Three street festivals: 17th Street, Adams Morgan, and the D.C. State Fair. A diverse assortment of activities that ranged from drag queen performances to pot growing tips to a women’s drum group.
• New plants into the garden: a Brussels sprout, some choy, and a new-to-me salad green, plus a couple seedlings Rudi found in the donation pile. Several more tomato plants came out; we’re down to just a couple left now.
• Finishing one audiobook and starting another.
• A scone from a newish food truck.
• Laundry and vacuuming.
• Ripping out what I’d knit on my new socks last weekend and re-casting on with the correct number of stitches. Better to lose five inches of knitting than to make a beautiful sock too small to wear.
• A trip to the farmers market. We’re getting to the end of heirloom tomatoes, corn, and peaches.
• The members’ sale at Politics & Prose. I picked up a couple gifts, as well as a copy of Claudia Rankine’s Citizen for me to own.
• Capreses and corn on the cob for Sunday supper. When the tomato, corn, and basil seasons end, so will our typical summer weekend-concluding meal.
• Cool, clear weather.
• Sitting at a cafe with a mug of chai, watching the sun set.

We, Rudi and I, eat supper late, often between 10 and 11. We split dinner duty, with Rudi making the food and me washing up afterwards. Afterwards, as you might imagine, can get awfully late, and dishwashing is often the thing I leave until last, just before going to bed.

As I plow through plates, pots, and utensils, I sometimes get tired, thinking of the cozy bed and bedmates awaiting me, particularly as I near the bottom of the basin. To power me through the final few items, I have, for the past several years bolstered my morale with a game I called “Even Gramma”:

“There are only a handful of plates and cups before I’m done. Even Gramma could wash those…”

“Ten things left? Even Gramma could polish off ten…”

You get the idea. Clearly this “game” only came into existence after Gramma became older and more frail and wasn’t allowed to wash dishes anymore for fear my parents wouldn’t have any whole ceramics or glassware left. Obviously it wouldn’t have been amusing (or motivating) during the many years she was actually washing up after meals.

Now, of course, she’s dead and has been for several months. Even if she’d been interested in washing dishes, it’s clearly no longer an option. But that doesn’t mean the game has concluded.

Oh, no.

It’s just morphed into the “Even my dead Gramma” game.

Gramma, when alive, would not have appreciated the motivation she provided in powering through a dreaded chore. But now? She would have thought the dead Gramma game was hilarious. I can picture her snorting with laughter thinking about the ridiculous imagery conjured by my late-night brain.

I spend a lot of nights crying into my dishwater.