I Remnumber

The other day I was talking to a friend about changing phone numbers and recalled the one he'd had before the one he was about to give up. He expressed surprise. In these days of cell phones and Palm Pilots, few people seem to keep more than a couple numbers in their "RAM". I, however, have a memory for numbers. When I was looking at the picture of Spats in my previous entry and noticed that the phone number started with an "841" prefix. That's the same prefix Annalee had during her first year-and-a-half in Berkeley, which means that she must have had one of those older, location-specific prefixes, since Spats is only a few blocks away from 1890 Arch Street. Of course, I dialed "841-7087" enough for it to take on special meaning, like a digital photo that you lock against deletion. It's harder to explain why my brain is still cluttered with the birthday of my Black Lightning Print Shop co-worker Amy Marshall -- July 6th -- or the height of Mt. Whitney. And that's leaving aside the realm of baseball statistics, which are heaped in unruly piles in the attic of my mind.

Prepped

Skylar is outside with her friends, engaging in Halloween games. Last night we carved our pumpkins and added the final touches to the yard:

Here is Kim's annual "vertical" carving, with the rounded flourishes that are her trademark:

Every year at her old job they held a carving contest. They eventually had to disqualify her to keep her from winning.

Skylar designed a couple pumpkins. She not only drew the shapes for this "ghoul" face, but cut out the top and the eyes and nose without any adult help:

Go Bean!

At her urging -- and believe me, this girl knows how to urge -- I opted to recreate the classic serrated smile that I've been making for years:

Well, it's time to go don my "flame shirt" and the mask I bought with Kim on our honeymoon in New Orleans, now put to more wholesome uses than it was back in 1996.