sausages

It's finally October, one of my favorite months of all time.

According to the JW Pott's insurance sign out my window, it's 64 degrees, and I couldn't be happier. It's finally nice and chilly. I dug my coat with the whistle out of my closet and have been rocking it for the past week. Fantastic. I'm going to be cleaning out my closet and pulling sweaters to the front, and then making a stack of "clothes to give to Erin or the homeless."

It's time to start thinking about Halloween costumes, too. If I'm a bunny again, the tail will be sewn to my jeans to prevent a husband and wife team from reattaching it, meaning they put their hands in my pants.

I'm trying to think of some good costumes. Josh isn't to thrilled with being Scott Weiland, and nobody really knows who his wife is, so it's not a blatantly obvious choice. We could be Sid and Nancy, but it's still a bit vague. I think Josh is going to be a pirate and add some items to the costume, I'm going to be. . . still not sure.

Darren's birthday is the 9th, and he won't be here. Most disappointing, but I keep holding on that he'll be here by the end of the month.

We're planning on going to Cedar Point for Halloweekend. Yes, it was cold last time and, yes, I plan on wearing two hoodies, five coats, and 22 pairs of pants. And bringing tissues, lots of tissues. Ooh! And those little hot-hands things to keep in my pockets. Sweet. Looks like it'll be Josh, Adam, Erin (though she doesn't know it yet), and myself. If Darren's back we'll make him go and bring that cute skater girl he was talking to. . . if she doesn't have school that day. Leave it to me to get someone five years younger and for Darren to get someone five years younger. It's a sickness!

The Octoberfest is next weekend in Lowell and we're going. Yes, it will probably be cold and muddy like always and, no, there is no beer. Apparently for there to be beer there has to be a "k" in Octoberfest and as you can see, there's not.

There are sausages though. Good sausages.