Finished. Finito. Done. The End.

As I sat on the couch yesterday afternoon and evening waiting for the trick-or-treaters to ring the doorbell I crocheted on the Sudoku afghan edge.  I got around the first time and plunged right into the second one, which I decreed to be the last one.  After supper I sat right back down, picked up my crochet hook and finished the round.  No one was more surprised than I was when the little plastic start-of-the-round stitch marker slid under my fingers telling me that I was nearly done.  All done.  After 9 years, 3 months, and 8 days, the Sudoku Afghan (it started out to be a throw but it grew, it REALLY grew) is totally and completely done. I invite you to gaze upon its wonderfulness.

Because our outside light won't turn on when it's still daylight I dragged a table lamp up from the basement, took off the shade, and tied a paper Halloween lantern over the harp--sideways, set it up on the porch, and plugged it into a cord from the garage so I didn't have to stand outside and call in the kids because our light wasn't on.  I remembered I had some Halloween pencil toppers and pencils downstairs so I brought those up and was all set.  I was sure we'd have a lot more little goblins than in previous years because it seems like there are more kids in the neighborhood but we had about the same as in years' past.  Oh well, Durwood will have to eat the malted milk balls and I'll eat the Dots.  It's the least we can do. 

This bluejay was really enjoying the corn this morning and didn't hold still long enough for me to get a good, lots of blue picture of him/her.  I like bluejays; they're such loudmouths but they're easily scared away.  All mouth and no guts. 





November 1--Claude Monet, Argenteuil in the Snow, Setting Sun.  Gabri looked out at the sky that had been gray with snow clouds all day.  The village lay quiet under a few inches of snow, the old stone and plaster buildings looking like decorated gingerbread houses tinted peach by the setting sun.  Trails of shadowy footprints in the snow traced the movements of the villagers from grocer to baker to butcher then home.  Gabri wished to be out in the snow but last week he had fallen from Mrs. Taylor's tree while hiding from some eighth grade boys and broken his ankle.  He was stuck on the couch or in bed for the next six weeks the doctor said and his mother would make sure he obeyed.

Just as I sat down to eat lunch I heard the leaf collectors come down the street so I raced out through the garage, grabbing a rake and some gloves on the way, and managed to rake most of the leaves from our front yard into the street before the sweeper came back.  He very nicely swept down the opposite side of the street to give me a couple extra minutes.  *pant, pant*  I know it wasn't the last time they'll be by; I think they stop picking up around the middle of November but I thought it'd be nice to get the yard raked and the leaves gone since raking the front yard was on my agenda for tomorrow.  Now I don't have to do it.  At least not until the neighbor's stubborn maple tree finally releases its leaves, since it waits to be the last tree to do so every year.  Foolish tree.
--Barbara