Oh it's november! The temperature is in the 40's -- which in California after 6 months of endless summer feels very very cold. I'm wearing a wool plaid skirt, cotton sailor sweater (oh how I wish I'd kept my wool ones!) and knee high boots. Still cold. Not nearly as cold as all of the natives ... this weather feels like fall for the first time. Hard to tell time around here with no identifiable seasons. Probably why I've been unable to grasp the fact that its officially November, and my birthday is a month off.

On another note. 7:00am doesn't feel nearly as early as it used to. And sleeping until 8:00 feels very refreshing. 5:30 -- still a bear to wake up that freaking early. And it's not the waking up thats so difficult. It's the convincing yourself at 10:00 that instead of watching another rerun of "Whose line is it anyway" you should really go to bed because you're going to feel it in the morning if you don't." And every night its the same thing. You stay up for just ONE more episode, or ONE more chapter. And then 5:30 gets earlier and earlier. And earlier still when the damnable cat decides to play with a bit of plastic bag at 4am. Oh yes. At that point, lying in bed listening to crinkle crinkle.............crinkle....you begin to with that everything you've ever heard about plastic bags being dangerous were TRUE! That would at least save you the trouble of getting up again and taking it away from him so he can find something new to get into. Last night he slept on a loaf of bread. Does that make any sense? And why only the paper plates that we use, and not the stack that are too flimsy to use? And why does he sit in my lap only when I have a notebook on it, but then gets off when I pull it out from under him, and then crawls back on top of the notebook once I think he's really gone.....? Ah the mysteries of cat ownership.