This weekend was not especially full, but seemed exhausting. This may have been due to listening to three World Series games, only one of which we won. There’s always next year.

I finished my Halloween socks — on Halloween morning. (More on those later this week.)

I came up with a Halloween costume — on Halloween afternoon.

I may have chased down some trick-or-treaters who needed to take some of my candy. (Their parents were very excited by my 100 Grand bars.)

Rudi and I slept in on Saturday. I repeated this feat on Sunday.

We went out for tacos and hot drinks (two different restaurants).

We admired the trees or, rather, the leaves of a pocket park.

I went to the farmers market and bought lots of fall’ish foods: white turnips and dried beans and a pie pumpkin and sweet potatoes and broccoli, among other things.

I resumed, but didn’t finish my Robert Galbraith book, but did finish a collection of poetry.

I rode my bike to Georgetown to the library, to a cafe, and to the riverfront.

I dealt with late-inning baseball stress by poaching quince and cleaning the fridge.

I cuddled cats.

I missed the rain.

Weekending along with Karen at Pumpkin Sunrise.