Fifty Shades of Orange

There are probably just a few weeks out of the entire year when the weather in Florida is perfect. When the humidity is no longer oppressive, when the heat has cooled, when the storm clouds have gone. This is one of those weeks. You can be sure that we have all the windows open.

They already have Christmas ads everywhere, but we’ve been celebrating Halloween to the fullest anyway. I have been consuming everything pumpkin: cookies, pancakes, juice, cider, cake. Pie is only for Thanksgiving, of course.

My sister decorated our pumpkins:

We’ve already had a neighborhood party. I made cups of dirt, a Halloween treat I loved when I was little. I’d almost forgotten about them, but I was reminded when thumbing through one of our neighbors’ holiday cookbooks. There are decorations everywhere around the house, both inside and out. Cobwebs and severed hands hanging, orange lights, skulls, masks. Everyone dressed up except me because I couldn’t really come up with anything this year. I probably should think of something. The real Halloween is tomorrow.

I’ve been writing lots of things in lots of places: in my physical journal, in my online journal, in letters and emails to friends I miss a lot. I haven’t written as much fiction in the meantime, but I am still sending things out. I am trying to make it my duty to always be sending  things out. Why should I wait anyway?

I wrote about finding community through writing over at ReadLearnWrite. Writing is mostly lonely, but there are places where it doesn’t have to be. Not always.