Oh, well, let us just admit it's begun now that November remembered to lose the heat: holiday season. Downtown Jersey City felt it fit to put up their wreaths on the streetlamps already so I followed suit and rigged up the blinking Wreath In Dock. It lacks the evergreen scent but stuffing pine needles in the keyboard of an iBook is not recommended (so rumor goes). I'm at a loss for anything I desperately need as a gift this year since Brian outdid himself last year with both an iPod and a coffee maker with a timer. Nothing means love as much as a pot of fresh brewed coffee when stumbling out of bed on a cold morning. Well, I would like a car or a house or an Italian greyhound, but other things are more practical.
Someone needs to break the news of this "winter thing" to the geraniums in the window boxes. They fancy themselves poinsettias and are bundling down for the season. They should heed the warning of that Truman Capote story "Lola": "'She thought she was something else.'"
