Small town.

I like this place. The leaves are turning lovely shades of red and orange. It’s finally cold enough to wear long sleeves and jeans again. My favorite kind of weather. It’s raining more often than not, but when it stops everything glistens in the sunshine. We saw a double rainbow the other day during one of the brief breaks in the rainstorm. Good stuff if you can catch it.

I like the house we’re in, too. Finally enough space for ourselves and our kids… and all the stuff that comes with carting that many people around. Though I still haven’t unpacked more than just a few of our books. I need more bookcases.

I’ve been baking a lot lately. Loaves of French bread. Banana bread. Pumpkin bread. No cookies yet, but I’m sure they’re somewhere on the horizon. Cup of very strong coffee in the morning and a slice of bread, slightly toasted. Yep, a good way to start the day.

I need that right now. The blackness of absolute dejection and that horrifying void that appears in front of me lately when I try to think too far ahead need to be kept at bay with coffee and baked goods. And lots of good music. I’ve been listening to music while I do the endless dishes in my apron, feeling very much like a twisted reincarnation of June Cleaver. I have yet to wear pearls while doing housework, though. I suppose that’s something.

So the leaves are pretty. We have plenty of bread. The kids are healthy and reasonably content. We go to the local library for storytime every week. Play in the back yard when it’s not raining too hard. Do laundry every day. Drag the trash and recycling to the curb once a week. All sorts of fun stuff.

Oh yeah, and I’m working on a novel. Slowly. It is getting thrashed out. Whether I like it or not. The words have an easier time once they’re on the page and out of my head.

But right now, the kids want to go outside and play. It’s stopped raining. The sun is shining. I could rake leaves while the kids run around. Sounds good to me.