As I began to write this I took at quick look back at the last few posts. The previous four were about Halloween, and I noticed I have not been blogging regularly. I suppose that's because I used to blog early in the morning before getting ready for work as part of my daily morning writing routine. (I began blogging as a warm-up to actual writing)
But the new job and 1.5 hour morning commute takes that time away. Sure, I could get up at 4 AM rather than 5 AM, but I'm needing between 5 and 6 hours of sleep a night, and that would cut into that in a bad way.
Still need to figure out optimum writing times. (Hmm, maybe actually taking a lunch break at work might do the trick - a difficult task when I enjoy my job so much that it doesn't feel like work.)
In any case, today's post is another HNT one - at least I have the HNT ritual to ensure that I blog at least once per week. Today's post also refers to -- one last time for a while at least -- Halloween.
On Saturday, Alexander and I spent a couple of hours taking down the massive Halloween setup from our front yard. And on Sunday, with the weather being so absolutely gorgeous (particularly for November), Francine suggested that we put up the Christmas lights. She's a smart gal, that Fran - often reminding me of the challenges of climbing across the roof and slipping and sliding on a cold, icy surface when I wait too long to get those lights up (Of course, when Fran suggested it mid week after hearing the weather forecast, Alexander was itching to get started every day when I got home from work last week)
This week's HNT pics are of Alexander and I on the roof preparing to complete our task. (Yes, he has been involved in helping get the decorations up since he could walk - although it's only in the past few years he has been coming out onto the roof with me - when he was two he used to pass me the decorations through his bedroom window then point out where to place things.)
And I just couldn't bare to take pictures of the putting away of the Halloween decorations. It's still too painful to think about . . .