My October

Orange leaves collude

With brown, and russet, and red

In my October

Bonfires blaze brightly

Crackling logs, shooting embers

In my October

Hoodies and sweaters

Tall boots with warm woolen socks

That’s my October

Okay, I live in Florida. Our autumns here are fairly subdued, but I have fond memories of autumns in Illinois where the leaves turned impossibly beautiful colors and the sound of leaves crunching under foot was music to my ears.

Peace, people.

October, My Kind of Month

There’s so much to love about October: Cooling temperatures, changing leaves, pumpkin everything, and best of all, my birthday!

Yes, October is most likely the best month of all, and even though my date of birth comes early (Oct. 5), I celebrate all month long. I’m like a little kid in an old lady’s body. Fortunately, my dance card for the month is pretty full, so even though I’m too old to be the belle of the ball, I’ll at least have an invitation to the party.

Studly and I are going to Dallas for a few days. He’s going to play in a member/guest golf tournament with our son. I’ll hang out with my grandkids while the men play golf. Long distance grand parenting stinks sometimes because we don’t get to be there for every sporting event and music performance, but while in Dallas I’ll get to watch our eldest grandchild, Dominique, play in a varsity tennis tournament and Jackson, our youngest grandson, play baseball. Yay me!

The golf tournament concludes with a dinner for golfers and their dates on Saturday evening. As far as I know, I’m Studly’s date. I found a dress for the soirée, and I’m actually trading my flip flops for heels for one night and one night only. I’ll try to remember to take a picture; otherwise, no one who knows me will believe it happened. I practiced walking in the heels this afternoon. No one was injured in the process. The cats were wide-eyed and leery.

While Studly has to head home on Sunday, I’m planning on staying on for a few days. I’m going to a rally for Beto O’Rourke in Dallas on Sunday afternoon and attending a Bishop Briggs concert with my son, daughter-in-law, and granddaughter on Thursday. I’ll fly home on the 12th. Whew!

Then one of my very best friends is set to visit on the 26th of October. She is traveling through Florida on a leisurely solo trip, and I am so looking forward to having her spend some time with us at Doright Manor.

Oh, my daughter’s birthday is the 27th of October. She was and remains by far the best gift I ever received during my birthday month. I’ll even share my birthday month with her. That’s love.

Peace, people!

Shots from Chicago and a Few Hundred Bras

My whirlwind trip to see my daughter and middle granddaughter last weekend in Chicago was wonderfully exhausting. We did a bit of shopping and a lot of dining in addition to taking in a production of Les Misérables at the Cadillac Palace theatre in downtown Chicago.

I didn’t take many photos, but thought I’d share a few with you all.

The pizza was every bit as good as I’d hoped it would be. We ate at my son-in-law’s favorite pizza place, Giordano’s, and since he wasn’t there we had to send him “take that!” photos of our meal.

We used Uber to get from our hotel out by Midway to the theatre downtown. Chicago is so beautiful.

I wanted to get a picture of the theatre’s exterior, but it was a really cold afternoon, and I’m a wimp, so the inside is all you’re getting!

That’s my lovely daughter, Ashley, on the right and granddaughter, McKayla beside me.

My awful attempt at a selfie, above. Thank goodness McKayla’s pretty face balances out my smirk.

The production of Les Misérables was wonderful. I sobbed at the end. Partly because my butt was tired and I hadn’t slept at all the night before, but mostly because I was so moved by the performance.

Below is a totally irrelevant photo of bras decorating a bridge between Blountstown, Florida, and Bristol, Florida. I didn’t stop to count these pieces of lingerie, but they went on and on and on, spanning the length of a very long bridge. Impressive show of support….

The Corruption of Saint Helen

I took my beautiful mother-in-law, Saint Helen, to lunch at The Edison in Tallahassee today. 

  
I had an outstanding BLT. She had a strawberry salad. We both had a cocktail!

 

Saint Helen and her cocktail.
 
Well, to be fair, Saint Helen only had half of one. I drank every last drop of mine.

  

Rosewater Pink Lemonade shaken with Bombay Gin is a lovely way to celebrate October 29. Or any other day, for that matter.

Peace, people!

A Rose by any Other Name

Fifty-nine years ago today I was born, and my mom named me Leslie D’Aun. She took my middle name from a friend’s daughter whose first name was D’Aun, but she needed a first name to go along with it. Apparently she didn’t want my name to be identical to that of her friend’s child–even though I never met the kid and I doubt it would have been a big deal.

My grandmother, Nannie Grace, discovered the name Leslie in a novel she was reading at the time. I guess that’s fitting since I’d rather read than anything, so little Leslie D’Aun came to be.

A couple of friends through the years have used my middle name for their own kids–more because they liked the name than that they were naming their child after me. I also have a granddaughter named McKayla D’Aun, but until last week I didn’t know anyone who’d specifically chosen the name Leslie because of me.

My incredibly competent and sweet housekeeper, Rosa, told me on Friday that her sister, who helps her clean from time to time, had given birth to a beautiful baby girl and named her Leslie Marisol. 

Rosa said, “My sister thinks you are so good and nice, so she named her daughter Leslie so maybe she will be like you.”

I might’ve cried. Ok, I cried.

might need to check this website….
 
Peace, people!

Circle of Five–in response to the Daily Post’s Writing Prompt

I. favorite number
five; superstition dictates.
i am a child born
on the fifth day of
the tenth month, a multiple
of five. mystical.

Photo from HowardDavidJohnson.com

II. give me five, one hand 

thrust open in greeting, slapped 

up high, down low, slide 

across palms touching, friendship 

displayed playfully.

 Photo by David from Society 6.

III. ring ’round the rosie 

pocket quite full of posey, 

all but five fall down.

a circle drawn in

childish games mocking death’s role

In childhood forgot.

Jeu d’enfants a Riquewihr-1920’s -Alsace-Robert Doisneau

October State of Mind

If “Playmonth” was a magazine and each month received a centerfold, October’s layout would be the best of all. I can see her now, flaming red hair against a backdrop of gold, green, and rust. Her arms flung wide in welcome. Her smile warm and generous. Oh, and her eyes! Her eyes would reflect the passion and promise of autumn. “Come enjoy me,” she’d seem to say in that come hither voice of hers. “I’m all yours.”

When the voting for “Playmonth of the Year” was tallied, the results wouldn’t even be close. October would prevail in a landslide. She’d be interviewed on “The View” by Whoopi Goldberg and Rosie O’Donnel.

Rosie: Hello October! You are looking good!

October: Mmm. Thank you so much. I’ve been working out.

Whoopi: Wait. Welcome, October? I don’t get it…October’s a month….Who booked a month as a guest on the show?

Rosie: I hear you have a big project in the works. Are you more than just another pretty month?

October: Yes, I hope so anyway. My project is to encourage all the coniferous trees into following the deciduous trees’ lead by turning colors during my time as Playmonth of the Year.

Rosie: That’s quite an undertaking.

Whoopie: I’m sorry, but I think that is scientifically impossible.

October: Oh I won’t let a little thing like science stop me. You see, my likes are happy thoughts and nonsense, and my hobbies are roasting marshmallows and hiking through crunchy leaves. I have no use for science.

Rosie: Spoken like a true Playmonth! Everyone, check out October’s layout in “Playmonth Magazine” and you’ll see why she’s Playmonth of the Year.

Whoopie: Why are we calling it that? It’s a calendar for Pete’s sake. October’s a month. Good grief. See what happens when Barbara Walters leaves the show?

Peace, People!