As Mrs. Ditchman headed out the door for work this morning I said something like, "I feel that everything is a mess right now, from the house all the way to work, and I don't know how to make sense of it." She was in agreement, but that's the way it's always meted out to us after one of our great-gatsbyian party weekends. There are no servants.

Her side of the family rolled in on Friday, stayed, partied, and then rolled out on Sunday with all the slow, unstoppable force of a harvest moon tide. It was nice having the lot of them, but that tide buoys these ships and causes them to throw anchor. My family, on the other hand, blew in like a meteorological event from the season closer of Storm Chasers. That's fun, too, but have it all happen at once and you could write a book about it. I was up until 1AM on Saturday doing dishes and trying to right the craft, which was when I thoughtlessly had that last glass of wine that almost had me leaning over the stern, but still leaving me green with sea-sickness most of Sunday. Then we went to another party, which will not be mentioned.

But it was a hoot, all Saturday. The Little Digger turned 1 (actually, this Thursday) and seemed to enjoy it through and through, in spite of the burgeoning molars. The Little Ditchman had the time of her life, too, with all her cousins and buddies hopping unstoppably about the yard. I think we are incapable of having "a small, intimate party of family and only close friends" since our family alone amounts to about 35 people. I mean, say "party" and there's already 35 people on the invite list, all ages, but it's nothing to complain about, and, rather, something to be proud of. (Not the amount, mind you, but the mere fact that none of us resorted to killing each other.)

There is sand all over the house. And flies. The sand, I know where it came from. The flies, I cannot say, but they line up at the infrared sensor on the garbage can and let each other in and out of the tossed meat and cake buffet. Every sheet, towel, and pillow case needs to be laundered today, and there are piles of dirty clothes, all thankful for my recently exhibited dryer-repair prowess. This is the last week of October. Most of my monthly goals have not been met. Halloween is Saturday, and then? A long walk home from 2009. But it's a nice night, and I'm looking forward to it.



Nearly all of the surviving Kanowitz blood was present.


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