Be-Mused — Karen Templeton

In preparation for going over my galleys for A HUSBAND’S WATCH, I had to clean off my desk, which is actually one of those long white buffet tables they sell at Sam’s. The detritus included the old dictionary and falling-apart thesaurus, at least six spiral notebooks, two stacks of contest-bound books and the relevant paperwork, three royalty statements, a contract, a handful of catalogs, two bottles of nail polish, a “cheat sheet” of teenage slang I printed off AOL, revision notes for the WIP, various books that had nothing to do with anything, and enough writing implements to outfit a class of twenty-four.

I’m about to go blind from the glare of the morning sun bouncing off the white surface.

But weirder than that is this feeling that I’ve somehow swept away half my brain in the process. Where’s my nice, cozy clutter? Or, more to the point, where’s my life?

Have to tell on myself, though — last week I lugged the laptop to jury duty (waste of time, I was there for an hour, followed by a half hour two days later, and now it’s over), only to open it and realize to my horror that everything I’ve eaten by my computer for the past two years was in plain evidence. As opposed to any letters on the keyboard, which wore off probably three months after I got the thing.

If you want a good laugh, and aren’t bothered by off-color humor, head on over to Shannon Stacey’s blog , and her monthly commentary on the search phrases that show up on her stats page.

I guarantee you’ll never look at a Swiffer the same way again.

Went out with #5 tonight, along with two of the neighbor kids. Got the feeling I was persona non grata (the plea to “Walk behind us” was my first clue). Although since I ended up doing the pack mule thing with the candy when it got too heavy, they can’t complain too loudly.

Anyway, although the air was still tinged with the tang of fireplace smoke, and boys still opt for the scary look while the girls tend to go the sparkly princess route, I noticed a few differences between this year and, say, five years ago.

1. One of the kids kept having to end his cell phone calls to call out “Trick or Treat.”

2. Instead of walking with their kids, at least half the parents crept along beside them in their minivans.

3. The handcarved real pumpkin is slowly being usurped by the plug-in kind. Not that I hold this against anyone — after yesterday’s experience, fake pumpkins are looking damn good to me, too. But still.

The weirdest thing though, were the hordes of outsiders swarming the neighborhood. Granted, for years there’s been a tradition of bussing in kids from other neighborhoods to the posher areas, like down by the Country Club. Rumor has it those folks give out FULL SIZE Snickers bars and the like. But our neighborhood is hardly posh. Nice, neat and pretty enough, but mostly filled with young families in still in the infatuation stage with their first mortgage, or retirees who’ve paid off their mortgage ten years ago. Most folks around here aren’t “movin’ on up” as much as they’re just grateful to be able to keep from sliding backwards. So how we’re suddenly considered prime pickin’s for the Halloween goodies, I do not know.

In any case, it’s all over for another year. Pumpkins have been extinguished, kid is in blissful sugar shock, and Mom is so ready to keel over. On to Christmas, with that hiccup along the way known as Thanksgiving.

Which reminds me — six more catalogs came today. The more I toss, the more land in my mailbox. Shades of The Sorcerer’s Apprentice. . .