Sunday, October 4, 2009


We're gearing up for Halloween at Chez Reed. The decorations are out from storage, if not all perfectly arranged, and Alison is busy planning her spooky menu for what may become our annual party.

If you're around, you should stop by. But be prepared to brave the elements. You may have to fish around the brain of a mummy or drink some witch's blood before you earn a treat...

Today I hope to take it easy. We've had two weekends full of fun and I'm in need of a day on the couch. I'm not inspired with any great insight today, so I'll leave you with this:

Coming home in the car she was telling me that she had the perfect movie for Jeff and me when our next wedding anniversary comes along: Sponge Square Pants' Single Cell Anniversary.

She asked how long we've been married. I told her we got married in 1998 and it was going to be 2010 when our next anniversary came would come along. She figured out that we're coming up on a dozen years.

She asked how long we were married before we had her. We did a little math to determine that it was a little more than 3 years.

"Wow. Three years without me. That must have been hard," she said.


This morning she'd started one of the hardest puzzles known to man. It's 500 pieces and is a platter of donuts -- many identical. We got in years ago while on vacation with Eric and Traci and repetition has not made it easier.

What hasn't changed over the years is that we start craving donuts as soon as we get one of the darn things put together. We've far...

She and Jeff went out for a bit this morning. I wasn't feeling like leaving the house. Ali got ready, lured by the famous Northside News grilled cheese sandwich.

"I'll be interested to see your progress when we get home," she said, patting me on the head.


We had dinner with new friends last night and Ali opted to spend her evening downstairs. At one point she came up and asked if I'd come downstairs with her. Clearly something was the matter.

I assumed she'd spilled or broken something. But no. She'd found a baby spider and smashed it flat with her Littlest Pet Shop tool box. Used to be, we'd usher our unwanted guests out the back door on a piece of paper. She's learned to despise spiders lately; I'm not sure why.

As she'd dispatched the bug, I wasn't sure what the trouble was. Apparently she's OK killing bugs; she just couldn't bring herself to touch the carcass.

"I had to smash it 5 times!" she said. "It wouldn't stop moving so I sat on it for a while. That worked."

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