Oh, Fall. You trick me every year. I love your crisp, clear days, the colorful foliage on the trees and underfoot, and the return of sweater weather. All of your romantic, golden light makes me want to walk through Central Park and drink raw cider. I used to fall in love in the autumn. It seemed so full of possibilities. I'm a little more world weary now. Fall's great sucker punch comes around every year: grey, rainy days, and that annual drop in serotonin levels that I frankly don't need.

It's been really rough lately. I wrote a very self-pitying post that I decided not to upload to the blog last week. All of that negativity was too much. Everything gets under my skin these days: people on public transportation, public transportation, constant technical problems, waiting for itunes to recognize my season pass for Mad Men, being broke. Ideally, I would stay in the charming bubble of my car, cozy in my heated seat, and listening to NPR. Instead, it's been the RTA lately. It gives me an extra couple of hours of knitting time a day, and my ipod and I have become best friends.

Must knit. Must knit quickly. Must knit ever expanding list of xmas presents and warm garments because it's Fall. It's hard to balance my desire to knit sweaters for myself and my need to get things done before xmas. I discovered today that one of my few remaining commercially made sweaters has a developer stain on it, so I feel a real urge to knit myself a cozy sweater. Fortunately, I have one in the rotation. In contrast to the tiny needles and yarn of all the gift socks, the sweater knits at a cool 3.5 stitches to the inch on size eleven needles. It's wool, dyed a semi-solid green, the bright sort of green used in children's books for happy caterpillars. While pawing through my stash the other day, I discovered that I'd also bought unwittingly bought the same color in a worsted weight. You'd never guess that green is one of my favorite colors, would you?

I did something unusual the other day. I took a big swing at the hornet's nest and had a political discussion with my grandparents. I'm a dyed in the wool democrat and they're republicans, you see, so we don't talk politics. I was curious. This election cycle could have--should have--prompted meaningful political discourse, but instead we've been bogged down in the cult of personality and the parsing of speeches that would make Lacan weep. Everything is so polarized; no one seems willing to hear the other side. Well, that is precisely what I did and it was very interesting. There were no raised voices, but real discussion of the issues. My grandfather was impressed by my willingness to listen to other points of view. He didn't change my mind and I doubt that I changed his, but it gave both of us a new perspective. I'm not suggesting that everyone go out and hug a Republican, but I think that we can all gain from taking St. Augustine's advice. Let's try to take a larger view of things for the next two weeks. Let's be excited about the political process. Let's treat the right to vote like a privilege, because it cost men and women their lives.

My mom recently returned from a trip to Canada. You know, where hippies and Democrats flee. I think Canada is neat and wish that I could have gone on a shopping trip to the big yarn shops in Toronto. Toronto! It's the mecca of all things wool. I hinted at a gift from one of the shops there that has its own color of Socks that Rock, but maybe I should have been more explicit. I'm not ungrateful for the souvenirs she brought me, but it did smart when she said that she didn't bring back any yarn because I have all of the sock yarn in the world. heh. Maybe she's taken a peek at my stash on Ravelry. I have a ton of sock yarn. Well, more like several kilos, but considering how rarely I wear socks, it may as well be all of the sock yarn in the world.

I had the most heavenly brunch last Sunday. I can't remember the last time that I ate a brunch like that. I was a food critic friend's plus one at Shaw's Crab House. Now, I may not seem like an obvious choice, given my total aversion to all fruits de la mer, but it worked out quite well. There were many things for me to eat, enough to fill my hollow leg with the best bacon ever, sublime potatoes au gratin, and beef tenderloin. The service was impeccable, so discreet that I lost track of my coffee consumption and drank entirely too much. I also drank a damn fine blood orange mimosa. Normally, mimosas are a dumping ground for cheap champagne-and not enough of it-but these were a little tart, a little dry, and full of good bubbly. I wasn't sure that I would like Shaw's, but I really enjoyed myself.