Letter B

Thirty Is Here At Last

NaBloPoMo is over as of this post. To celebrate: a list!

What I Will Be Doing Instead of Thinking about Posting, Posting And/Or Obsessing About A Previous Post

1. Washing.
2. Re-introducing myself to my husband.
3. Sleeping.
4. Finishing The Secret History (I know, I know, I am the only person on the planet who has never read this book).
5. Breaking out the holiday decorations. (I now have a mantel, oh yeah.)
6. Keeping the computer off for the entire weekend.
7. Stowing handmade M. Kennedy voodoo doll in a box for next year.
8. Watching more television. Sweet, sweet television.
9. Daydreaming about something other than meme topics.
10. Bitching about how no one is posting.

This experiment has been a lot of fun (except for when it was ruining my life). I have discovered that I actually don't have that much to say but when given the chance to win a mug or oil painting of a turkey I'll say just about anything. I have really enjoyed reading everybody else's posts, though. That has been a real treat and I know that I am going to go through some nasty withdrawal when people go back to posting normally again.

I did actually get a lot out of this exercise. For instance: if I want to write I have the time. That excuse is gone now. I may not get much sleep but I can do it. It was also good to think like a writer again. It's been awhile since writing was a major everyday priority for me so it has been wonderful to be back in that mindset. I am going to try to post more regularly than I have been in the recent past because I really did enjoy breathing life back into this blog. I hope that you enjoyed it too.

Black and White

I have been a little grumpy lately now that all the leaves are gone (and the sky is gray, and the sky is graaay, i've been for a - ahem, sorry) and there is no more beautiful color around. All the camouflage around our yard has molted and now we can see the house behind us where they park their cars in the backyard. Lovely. Anyway, I was taking the train into the city this afternoon (whooo party! goin' to see my therapist! Yeah!) and was busily reading my Domino when I paused to look out the window. Much of the train ride has an unimpeded view of the Hudson that is pretty spectacular. Of course now I am jaded and it's wintery and cloudy and no leaves so I wasn't expecting much. But as it all came into focus I was floored. The water, for once, looked completely still. It was like looking at sheet of glass. The hills were reflected perfectly in the water, down to the spiky upsidedown tree tops. Everything was completely leached of color because of the dying light and the gray sky and the dark trees and the still water. It looked like a black and white still life. The water in the shallows was so still that it reflected everything on the banks perfectly and made me feel like I was looking at an Escher. I couldn't take my eyes off it until the siren call of expensive home goods became too hard to resist (and we passed the nuclear power plant, kinda kills the charm). But still, I was feeling good again about moving to such a beautiful place.

When I got into the city and I saw the lights on 125th street I had a moment of wistfulness. I forgot about the christmas lights (in my afterschool special the Robbie Benson character would have whispered that in my ear instead of some fool thing about the flowers). Luckily I had to navigate around midtown and all the dumb-ass out-of-towners (oh, wait, crap) that were in for the stupid f-ing Rockefeller center tree lighting and it brought me back to earth. Christmastime in the city can be a real pain. But the lights are very sparkly. And the shops have so many goods. So many fondlesome goods. What I am trying to say is that living in the suburbs, living in the city, both have their sublime moments. Moments that make you happy that you live where you live and you are where you are. And then they have their nuclear power plants and congestion too. Right now the pros are outweighing the cons. Today, I was very happy in both worlds.

This Is Me And My Energy, And My Gun

Somebody, please, for the love of God, get "Me and My Energy"* out of my f-ing head before I commit seppuku. There is a special place in hell for Laurie Berkner. I hope it's the room where they are eternally piping in "It's A Small World After All." It's not that I don't like her music, I actually do, it's just that her hooks never leave your brain. Ever. Dear God, make it stop.

On a related note, I do believe that the cutest thing I have ever heard is a two-year-old trying to pronounce "maracas."

*Think twice before clicking this link.

And Now, A Little Political Poetry...

...because death wasn't depressing enough! I wrote this poem many years ago about Eastern Europe but it really is kind of an all-purpose poem, a sort of "Nation-Building for Dummies" if you will. Enjoy!

Unzipped

A new low. I just broke into the bittersweet chocolate I keep for baking. Lord, sometimes you just have to have the chocolate. I need something to temper the despair. It seems that every single pair of pants in my closet have shrunk a full size. Must have that dryer looked at. More gravy, anyone?

When Life Gives You Urine, Make Urinade!

Matthew asked young master Lowell today if he was a "pea-pea mouth" because he was eating his peas by the fistful. Lowell smiled a very pea-filled grin and repeated what his father said. I am pretty sure he thought he was saying "pee-pee mouth" if I am to judge by the amount of giggles he dissolved into after saying it. Guess what became the phrase of the day? Guess what I heard crackling through the monitor as he drifted off to sleep? The poopy humor, it has begun.

As to my rant about the situation in Iraq yesterday (if you can call it a rant, more like a gurgle) please read Maureen Dowd's column (TimesSelect dammit, but I will link it anyway). She sums up the absurdity of Bush enjoying his Thanksgiving while people are being set on fire very nicely. Mmmm... now that's a nice cup of urinade.

Scraping Bottom

I am trying really hard to pay even less attention than usual to current events right now. I feel like if I keep shouting "la la la la la la" and keep the tv off then I won't have to think about what's happening in Iraq right now. LA LA LA LA LA LA. LA. LA. When the denial mechanisms fail and I actually read the newspaper or accidently watch a news program while turning on Blues Clues I feel completely enraged. I don't like to feel rage, thus the copious amounts of denial, but even I have had the itch to run out in the street and scream my head off lately. Clusterf*ck does not even begin to describe the mess the bunch of dilettantes in charge have wrought. It is unbelievable.

But you didn't come here for enraged, spit-flecked rants. You came here for incoherent, spit-flecked ramblings. It's 11:46 as I type so I better hurry up and think of something. Wanna see my pie? It looks better than it tasted. Oh well. Christmas is coming. Pie redemption will be mine. Can you say Key Lime? Yes, I was born to rebel.

Thanksgiving Tips

Great new ways to kick off Thanksgiving: Mistake your spouse's precious homemade turkey stock for dirty dishwater and pour it down the drain. Awesome! Or, f*ck up your pie pastry by accidently using self-rising flour. D'ough!

I'm hitting the sauce early this year. Anybody out there today?

Happy Birthday!

Lowell's second birthday was today. We are quite proud that Project Keep-Alive has acheived another major milestone, in spite of some challenging toddler behavior of late. Handlers report that he is currently much enamored of trains, trucks, and books about trains and/or trucks. His favorite foods include crackers, green beans and jumbo crayons. Some turn-offs are diapering and sleeping in. Let us take a moment to reflect on both the hard work and joys of the past year. They were legion. Congratulations to the team and good luck with year three.

9 Bottles of Beer on the Wall...

I pretty much feel like I have been singing this for the past 21 days.

10 Things That Make Me Happy That Piss Other People Off

1. Traffic. It means everybody has to drive really slowly.
2. Incredibly precise and specific filing systems. The more anal the better.
3. Getting in the slowest line at the grocery store (sans toddler only). I am a magazine junkie and it just helps me feed the addiction.
4. Related to #3: having exact change!
5. Making puns in foreign languages. (God, don't you want to be my amigo?)
6. Mimes.
7. Winning at Scrabble.
8. Participating in harebrained internet schemes.
9. Making themed birthday cakes.
10. Doing everything at the last minute.

This meme is for Feral. And for my sister who originally came up with the concept and will one day write the book. I am tagging anyone out there who needs material this week.

Hey Nineteen

Tip: If you really want to increase your google hits then write a sentence on your blog that includes the phrase "Nigella's boobs." Dang, but there's a lot of horny foodies out there.

Fellow NaBloMeMo'ers (and interested parties): any thoughts on strategies for posting through Thanksgiving? We're hosting ours so at least I don't have to worry about travel and technical difficulties. But I will be a little overextended because of said hosting so I am just hoping someone out there has a gimmick to share. You know, a theme or something. Six days of gizzard pictures? What I am thankful for that pisses other people off? Crafting with mixed nuts? Please help if you have any ideas.

In The House

I might be okay with the suburbs but I think Lowell is trying to tell us something.

The sweatshirt is an early birthday present from some friends of ours in the old neighborhood. Did I really say I was feeling okay with being further away from friends in my last post? *Sob*

Where We Are Now

It's been six months since we moved out of Brooklyn to our new town. I haven't really been writing about it lately because I kept coming to the same conclusion: Hey! It's a mixed bag! Sometimes I like it! Sometimes I don't! Snoooore. But now at the six month mark I finally feel a little more settled and relaxed. I think I am ready for a little reflection. How 'bout you?

Having our own house is everything that I thought it might be and better. Of course we have already experienced some of the downside to home ownership but I am surprised by how little it bothers me when the upside is (honestly) a dream come true. And funnily enough it was a dream that I didn't even know I had. Owning a decent apartment, let alone a house, was so out of reach, so far into the realm of ridiculousness in the city that anytime I mentally went there ("... someday we'll buy a brownstone...") the gates of reality would slam shut in my brain and I wouldn't even entertain them. My dream became finding a good, affordable apartment to rent. With a washer and dryer. And maybe shared outdoor space as a bonus. That was it. That's all I allowed myself. When we finally made the mental shift and decided to include leaving the city as a possibility suddenly I started to dream a little bigger. And here we are in the cutest little house with all the trimmings. I am so happy to have it and feel so incredibly lucky.

Making friends is on pace, I guess. At this point people that we've had nice interactions with are starting to become friends. I am not as anxious about that part as I was. I can see now that we are going to have friends here, maybe even good ones. This town has much of our ilk, those who have left the city (many our neighborhood in the city) and have kids. It's been relatively easy to meet people, although not without heartache because I am such a dork about it. Missing friends in the city had been one of the hardest parts of moving but so far my worst fears have not been realized. It's pretty much like we just moved to another, slightly less accessible borough. (Being on a Metro-North line is key, I am finding). Honestly, if we had moved to Queens we'd probably be seeing everyone just as much. Of course I still miss our friends, sometimes poignantly so, but the separation is just not as drastic as I thought it was going to be.

The thing that I least expected was to be so blown away and invigorated by the natural beauty of our new area. Although I had been here many times and had admired the scenery, it is different when you are here every day and you get to observe all the nuances. Autumn just about killed me. It was amazing. And the bird watching in my own backyard is tops! You would not believe what is just hanging around. And watching Lowell discover bugs and birds and tomatoes that grow in the yard is such a blast. I have always been a nature lover but my many, many urban years made me forget how stimulating and energizing it is. I always assumed that I needed the city environment for that kind of buzz. It's been a nice surprise.

I am not missing the city hassles. It's been easy to find reasonable childcare here. I like having a car when I shop for groceries. I love my backyard to utter pieces. I even like the quiet. There, I said it. Sometimes I miss the density of the city. You know, the hubbub, the anonymity. But not as much as I did in the first months. I am getting used to this new pace.

The first six weeks or so I think I cried practically everyday. I was miserable. I didn't write about it that much, just here and there, because it was so bloody depressing. I think that I was mourning many things, not just leaving the city. I think I was mourning my old self, my life before getting married, before having a baby, as well as all the things that I had always dreamed I might accomplish on the bigger stage of the city. I was mourning even the change to New York itself. After September 11th it was a different place for me. I tried to deny this, but there was a baseline anxiety that was always with me, 24 hours a day. After Lowell came along that anxiety got worse. So I guess I was mourning the person that I'll never be again, in a city that will never be the same to me again. All of these changes happened way before we started looking at real estate, but I think that the drastic shift of the move threw everything into high relief. I needed a lot of tears to process it all.

I am relieved that the hardest part is over. I am happy to be here and I am feeling pretty positive about the move these days. I am sure that I will continue to miss the city but, you know, that's what Target is for. Thanks for listening to this. I appreciate all of you guys coming along on this ride with me.

The TV, It Is Good

I hate to do this again but dammit, The Office is on and I am so excited! Jim back! Hooray! Here is my list of things I did today during Lowell's nap instead of blogging and thus why I am now phoning in this list instead of writing a proper post:

1. Cleaned out my fridge. Mmmmm.
2. Planned out the birthday/thanksgiving nexus (Lowell's 2nd b-day is the day before Thanksgiving this year).
3. Researched whether I have all the ingredients on-hand to make pumpkin spice bread. (I do).
4. Rewatched the Office episode from last week (Do NOT laugh - Steve Carell was brilliant with his crazy eyes).
5. Flipped couch cushions. (It was time).
6. Considered taking out the recycling.
7. Charged my cellphone.
8. Read your blog.

Tomorrow I plan a return to our regularly scheduled navel-gazing. It's the 6-month anniversary of moving to our new town so I plan on doing some musing on that subject.

TV Party Tonight!

Day 15! Halfway there. I have never, ever looked forward to December quite this much.

Gotta make this quick because the Medium season premiere is on tonight and I don't want my rapt attention to be fizzled by blog-xiety. I have written before about how much I love this show and I have high hopes for this season. If only to get to see Patricia Arquette on a weekly basis again. She's pretty. Oh, and because Fussy told me to (and I take direction well) go watch this hilarious Mad TV Medium Parody. They NAILED it.

Real Cooool, Mom.

The other night I sang "Cool" from West Side Story to Lowell after dinner. Back in the day I was a music theater performer so I can really ham it up (if you are completely mortified for me now that would be appropriate). I have never seen him laugh so loud. He literally fell to the floor and rolled around in a giggle convulsion. When I stopped he begged for more. And, who am I to refuse my audience? So I took it up a notch. Loooooots of Jerome Robbins moves, snaps and pow-pows! He was in hysterics.

The warm glowy feeling that comes from making your little kidlet laugh ranks pretty near the top of human emotional responses that I have experienced. It really does feel as if your insides are melting. In a good way. Of course the thought did occur to me that he was actually laughing at me... Wouldn't be the first time I was laughed at by an audience. Oh, will you haunt me forever Damn Yankees?! *Sniff*

What I Did For Love

1. Betrayed my best friend.
2. Wore patchouli.
3. Lost my virginity in a rec room.
4. Made out with my best friend.
5. Stayed in a country after its borders were closed.
6. Scaled a suspension bridge at night while it was snowing. In heels.
7. Married a felon.
8. Found out that the kama sutra is overrated.
9. Supported a grad student.
10. Drank like a fish.
11. Married my best friend.
12. Honeymooned in Paris.
13. Gained 57 pounds.
14. Went through 24 hours of active labor.
15. Left the city.

(In the spirit of NaBloPoMo if anyone likes this list, by all means, do one of your own.)

Yes, Virginia... Aw F*ck It

Today as I looked lovingly upon my perfectly toasted, shmeared bagle adorned with onion, tomato and capers I had a eureka moment: "I am going to take a picture of this gorgeous bagle and blog about it!" Ladies and gentlemen, that is hitting bottom. Nobody cares what you had for brunch. Luckily, my sister called with melancholy news.

She and my brother-in-law decided to tell one of my nephews the truth about Santa tonight. Gut-wrenching was the word she chose to describe it. All of them cried and drowned their sorrows in some consolatory ice cream. The problem was that my nephew was getting a little too old - most of his peer group is way past it- and my sister and BIL didn't want him to be teased at school should the subject come up. My nephew is extremely smart and a relatively sophisticated kid in all other ways but he still really believed in Santa. Partly because he is so logical and concluded that there is no way that his parents would buy him the incredibly excellent stuff that Santa gives him - most of which is on their "highly disapprove" list. That and the vast, worldwide conspiracy to make unwitting christian children believe in Santa pretty much kept him in the dark until now. (Wait until he finds out about Jesus. Ha! kidding there, JC, he, he - we're good, right?  Actually, the ironic thing is that he is pretty skeptical about God. Finds the whole concept a little flimsy. Too bad God didn't give him his Gameboy Advance). In the end though, I think it's a good way to find out the truth. From the lying bastards, I mean, loving parents who break the news gently and let you cry on their shoulder to express what is a pretty terrible loss to a kid.

I found out about Santa in much more traumatic fashion. One Christmas eve, while snuggled in my bed with the sugarplums, a noise awoke me. I sprang to my window and threw up the sash... no, wait, sorry. I silently started down the stairs, part of me wondering why Stevie Wonder was blasting out of the stereo, but still with every fiber of my being humming with the excitement of possibly catching St. Nick in the act. When I reached the landing I peeked down into the livingroom. And what to my wondering eyes should appear? My mother stuffing candy canes into my stocking with a chocolate-chip cookie sticking out of her mouth. Confusion and indignation flooded my senses and I shouted "Mom! What are you doing? Those cookies are for Santa!" The look on my mother's face at that moment is one of the most priceless memories that I have. Trapped! Trapped like a trap in a trap, as Dorothy Parker once said. A second later my dad came in the front door pushing a new bike  and froze the instant he saw me, as if he could actually make himself invisible by standing completely still and wishing it. The jig was up. They did their best to console me but everything was different. I never trusted them again. (Ha! I kid. That didn't happen until they told me they were getting divorced). If you would like, *sniff*, you can use this place to share your story. If you're lucky enough to be part of a tradition that doesn't do Santa feel free to point and laugh.

Road Rage

I was talking to a friend tonight, who also happens to have a blog, about how hard I am finding this nablopomo challenge to be. He suggested when I don't have anything to say to just throw up a link. Hmmm. Already did that. Guess I'll just do it again and send you to his blog:

http://www.streetsblog.org/

Aaron is part of the movement to take back the f-ing streets in our cities. Risking my life by simply crossing the street in Brooklyn was exceedingly rage-provoking. I am so happy that he and others are channeling their rage towards improving the insane situation in New York and other cities. Stop by and check it out. It's New York-centric but chock-full of resources for the fighting pedestrian.

It's Friday And I Am Phoning It In

How sick of me are you? I don't think I can handle much more of me so please go read some other sites I love also engaged in this nablopomo madness:

Feral Mom
Belgianwaffle
Drowning in Kids
jen and tonic
Supafine
She's a Rebel, She's a Saint
DadaMama

That is all.

Nothing Like A Poem About Death To Take You Into The Weekend

Totally cutting it close here. 11:15 as I type. Typepad don't fail me now. I have debated whether to throw any poetry up on this site. I am a poet but up until now I haven't really wanted to post any of my work on this blog. Mostly because I'm all about the quotidian on this site and rarely do I even want to think about poetry let alone write about it and/or post it. I don't mean to say that I don't like poetry, or that I don't like my poetry it's just that I never meant this to be a poetry blog. But now, damn, I am fishing for material. So after the jump, if you dare, is a short poem that I wrote after my grandfather died. Enjoy!

We Done Sprung A Leak!

Eat your heart out Heloise.

Dammit, I wish the Democrats would do something about this rain. But I am not going to let a little precipitation spoil my mood. What a night! What a day! I haven't felt this good since way back in '92.

I am feeling especially warm and fuzzy about our new congressperson who just happens to be a former rock(ish) star. You may know him from such hits as "You're Still the One" and "Dancing in the Moonlight."  Um, how awesome is that? This awesome (that's him in the middle). Ah, I poke fun but I am seriously happy that he made it. He is the real deal activism-wise and just the type to stick it to the spineless stiffs who have been spinning their wheels up there on the hill for the last 6 years. And crossing my fingers that maybe, just maybe, he can get Seals and Croft to play the Dutchess County Stadium.

Spoiled Diva or Toddler? You Make The Call:

1. Hits handler in the face with remote control.
2. Will only drink specific brand of soymilk.
3. Trashes room.
4. Points out everything that's "hot."
5. Refuses to stay in seat on airplane.
6. Demands personal toilet seat.
7. Crashes car into playground fence.

Answer: All Toddler. Totally calling my lawyer.

Smooth Jazz the Vote

When I first signed up for this NaBloPoMo deal I wondered if I would just forget to post one day. That would be much in keeping with my general MO. But, I needn't have feared. It's pretty much on my mind from the second I wake up. Hanging on me. Like an impish monkey, picking at my nits. Ack. Get off me, monkey!!

Are you voting tomorrow? Why of course you are! Silly of me to even ask. As a proud citizen of this great democracy you would rather chop off an appendage than miss a vote. It would never occur to you to think that it's too rainy or too cold or too stupid out to vote. You would never miss the opportunity to cast your vote for the future of your country. You have learned the hard way that every vote counts and, by all that is holy, you will be heard! Oh, you! Have I told you how much I like you lately?

Anyone out there have a sister with an 11-yr old? I do. Funny thing about boys. Around 11 they start to sound a lot like their moms. Especially on the phone. I am just mentioning this because you might not notice it that much and then bam! there you are going on and on about your stupid period to a completely horrified 6th grader who's only crime was answering the phone in your sister's exact tone and cadance. Just saying...

Join Me, Won't You?

In a hot whisky by the fire?

Please file this in the plus column of moving out of the city: we finally have a fireplace.

What's Sexy Now

List of random things done by spouse that unexpectedly prompted a sexual response in me:

1. Pausing to smooth out a wrinkle on a freshly-made bed.
2. Talking about mulch.
3. Absent-mindedly whistling the theme to Elmo's World.
4. Making fire.
5. Phoning ahead to find out if a store had a certain item.
6. Laughing out loud when reading a recent blog entry.

I must be hormonal. When he told me that he had done #5 I responded that his efficiency was turning me on. He said "Really? You know, I called three places."

Liquor is Quicker

Antibiotics? Check. Space Travel? Check. Teh Internets? Check. The list of human accomplishment boggles the mind and yet nobody has figured out a way to chop onions without crying. Today I tried  sucking an enormous Lemonhead while chopping away. It didn't work. (Actually, it wasn't supposed to, but a girl can dream...). There seem to be many methods but no sure thing. Or they work well but are just silly. Who is going to break out the swim goggles for food prep? My favorite one found after googling: "Hold 5 wooden matchsticks in your teeth (unlit of course)." Of course? Why of course? Light 'em up and take that act on the road!

Did you know that millions of people around the world are bridged together as they enjoy eating the round sour candy known as the Lemonhead? Me neither until looking for a link to a picture of the giant kind. Who knew? As a child I would pretty much do anything for a box of Lemonheads so the irony of this "just say no"era pin is not wasted on me. Total gateway candy.

And now a Halloween moment:

Me: (after neighbor gave Lowell a baggie of treats) What's in there?
Matthew: (peering inside) Chocolate-covered choke hazards.

I promise to stop blogging about candy just as soon as the stash is gone. Should be tonight.

NaBloBlaBla

Woah, sorry. Just woke up from my Kit-Kat coma. I passed out in a bunch of wrappers. Kind of looked like this. (Actually, if you haven't seen all the kitties yet please click here. Why? Two words: invisible bike. Via Sweetney, of course).

Check this out: NaBloPoMo Randomizer!

So happy somebody put something like this together because I am definitely going to need to steal ideas, i mean, get inspiration from other participants. Presented with a long list of links I will just go to the blogs I already know most of the time. This gadget forces me to live a little.

I've been thinking about what I really want to gain from this exericise. I think the biggest thing is to maybe get a little looser, stop being such an uptight perfectionist which is what keeps me from blogging most of the time. I also might post a little poetry (Oh god, come back! I'm kidding. Well, actually, I'm not, but I promise it will be short and relatively painless).  And maybe mine my past a little. I used to rock'n roll, honestly. And visit war zones.

Bye-bye Spooky

Lowell was a little traumatized over the Halloween holiday by all the scary stuff. Kid does not like masks. He made that very clear by saying the word "mask" over and over again while vigorously shaking his head. By over and over again I mean from the moment a big kid in a ghoulish demon mask inadvertantly scared the bejesus out of him at a halloween party on saturday until bedtime last night. Masks. No good. Also making the Lowell turn-off list: face paint. It made for a loooong week in the run up to the actual holiday.

Did I let this little fear of his keep us from trick-or-treating? Hell no! Little kid's gotta toughen up! Mama wants her Kit-Kat. All day I primed him on the spooky. We put up a bat garland. Oooh spooky! We sprinkled spiders about. Spooooky! We talked about masks (a lot) and came to the agreement that they are very, very spooky. Soon it was time to get out there. Lowell suited up in his doggie costume like a little warrior and we headed out on our route from our house to my aunt's place a short walk away.  On each approach to a neighbor's house we talked about why it was so spooky and what was up with the glowing pumpkins and also why, if we were brave, we would be rewarded with snicker bars and rolls of smarties. He was okay, even when one of our (brilliant) neighbors decided to put on his very scary devil mask when we came up. We took the candy and got out of there. Our neighbor called out "bye-bye Lowell"  and Lowell whimpered back "bye-bye 'pooky."

One of our other neighbors who had a pretty elaborate tableau on her porch dressed a skeleton in her actual wedding dress. She had mentioned her failed marriage to an abusive son of a b*tch in the past so I got a real kick out of this. Maybe it's also a little sad but she thought it was hilarious and I was inclined to agree. As we were talking about it I looked up and saw a real live bat flying over our heads. It gave me a little shiver. I pointed it out to Lowell and all three of us watched it swoop and dart for gnats against the sunset until it flew out of sight. Bye-bye spooky. See you next year.