There's a part of me that has not stopped being 15. Next Sunday, I'm going with Mark and LT to see the newly reunited Duran Duran, with which my junior high bedroom was wallpapered. And I freely admit to watching two WB shows (Smallville and Tarzan) solely on the basis of their hottie male stars. And I just used the word "hottie."

The belly grows ever babyful. A weekend of maternity shopping, which is proving to be very much not fun at all.

Meanwhile, daylight saving time has ended, and the early darkness doldrums have officially arrived.

It amuses me to get email pitches from Ancestry.com for "Strom Moon family history." Since I'm the only Strom Moon in existence, I can't imagine there's a lot of history out there.

Sucks about Elliott Smith.

My clothes are beginning not to fit. At first, I had a little stomach pooch. 7 pounds later, I can't get the top button closed on most pants. Since most of my clothes are close-fitting to begin with, it didn't take much to start running out of options. I'm not really ready for maternity wear, so that leaves one option for transitional wear: elastic waistbands. I'm not going to work in my sweatpants, so it must be time to invest in the Belly Basics kit.

The problem with a 3-day weekend that ends on a Monday is you spend the following week one day behind. It's much more enjoyable to work through Thursday and then realize pleasantly you don't have to come back the next day.

It was a beautiful weekend, though. The kind of crisp, clear weather we've been denied for most of the year. September (Isabel notwithstanding) was beautiful, on the whole, and October hasn't broken the spell. If the weather can hold out through the weeks of leaf color, we'll have memories to hold onto through what is promising to be another long, cold winter.

Being pregnant has a lot in common with being engaged. You're planning for a Big Event. You've got new lingo to learn. Your friends can finally stop asking you when it's going to happen for you. You spend too much time on web sites focused on the topic, reading bulletin boards full of information from women even more obsessive than you are. There is an entire industry devoted to convincing you of the need to purchase their minimally important products. There are specific garments to buy. You are tempted by the purchase of frivolous luxury items because this is only going to happen once (maybe).

And no-one finds the topic as interesting as you do, or cares as much about it. Not your husband, not even your family. But that's OK, because the focus is on you, in a way it will never be again.

This is why I don't use Hotmail any more: 117 pieces of spam in the last 7 days. Even if I *did* want to buy Viagra, would I really need to buy it 3 times a day? Who are the idiots responding to these messages and perpetuating this crap?

Yet another reason not to live in California. Or Cullyfornia, as the case may be. When did we start confusing celebrities with public figures in this country? Are all people on TV created equal? Maybe Martin Sheen or Harrison Ford really *can* be the next president. After all, actors are so much more interesting than actual politicians, and they give much better sound bites. We don't want someone who will lead us, we just want someone who seems like they are.

It's only a matter of time before Extreme Pumpkin Carving is an X Game ...