Per their usual, The Onion has it just right. I think back to the halcyon days of watching Dan Rather, Tom Brokaw, or Peter Jennings call the damn thing by 9:30 p.m. so I get out to the club in time for a show. And now that Arafat is sick, well, who the hell knows anything anymore. Life is just one big question mark. Just like George always said.

Just to quote "The Onion", Holy Fucking Shit! I'm thinking that we are going to be all ok on election day but things could go rapidly downhill by 1 a.m. on November 3. Hold on, buckle up, and shut up. It's time to ride.

Ooooooooo.........scaaaaaryyy!

Finally got our pumpkins, at the old pumpkin patch in the 'hood. I was grumpy, dinner was burning, he was late and focused on work, but once we saw two little forms running about in the midst of so much warm orange, everything melted into happy.

Big time fun in the Belle Household recently - when my children discoveredmy own childhood obsession. Cloris Leachman as the Amazon Queen (a sour and drunken queen - bril!), Lynda Carter's gorgeous gams and strangely effective expressions, and Lyle Waggoner. My God, Lyle Waggoner.

Get it. Rent it. Oh, and did you see this? We were one step away from canceling when the Amazon god(desse)s smiled on us once again.

Not that I'm a fashionista, not even in the least, but I do agree with this article. I think my FOP (Fear Of Poncho) began on the day I walked into Belk's and saw the poncho-only department as described by Ms. Fortini. I love a trend, but too much of a good thing scares me. Like Dr. Scholl's sandals...no matter how cool the pair, I just don't think I can follow the trend, now that it is so very much a trend.

Its not that I don't buy into fads - I have a bunch of animal prints this fall, I'm dying for a round-toed pump, and I really, really want to knit my daughter a poncho. But more than likely I'll still be cowering in the cold wearing last year's Target suede jacket whilst the rest of the population snuggles into their armless covers.

I really have no problem whatsoever with this. So sue me. I am not an equal-opportunity player hater when it comes to selling out. I respect bands like REM and Neil Young for not every doing it and for railing against it, and then sometimes I think it is tastefully and carefully done. Other times, not so much.

I just read an interview touting Dylan's new book where he said Bono would have been a cop if he had come to America in the early part of the century. Apparently they drank a case of Guiness together. There was no mention of cigarettes but one would think they smoked a case of those. I just like to imagine these evenings when icons get together and discuss banal things. Peter Buck apparently got the idea to tour with two nannies from Bono. Maybe Dylan got the idea to do the Victoria Secret ads from him, though I doubt it. As the beer got low, there might have been comparison notes about various IRAs and investment opportunities. Sports? I guess not. Best hotels to stay in whilst in the Midwest? Home remedies for guitar callouses? Surely some religious discussion though God knows what.

Gracious. I had no idea that every single relevant topic could befodder for the fighting. I generally haven't thought this election as contentious as some - after all, I moved to my fair city in the midst of a Jesse Helms election. But lately Messers Bush and Kerry seem to be slinging it pretty regularly. Even people who wanted a decent, kinder campaign season were bitching that Johnny Edwards was too easy on Cheney.

But I shouldn't comment about anything relevant or timely, as I am completely out of it. I didn't even know about poor Christopher Reeve. I remember a New Yorker article from a year or two back that outlined the advances that Reeve's advocacy had made possible for people with paralysis. The article - and Reeve - both stated that he would walk again. I am sorry that didn't happen. Still, I salute someone who used his celebrity only for good and whose actions created real improvements and treatments for a tragic condition.

Finally, the Braves are on my mind. I've watched approximately one inning of the playoffs - baseball is one of the sacrifices I've made for motherhood. By the time the few of you who read this do read this, it will be over, for better or for worse. I can only hope that I am in for a few more nights of my husband lying on the couch for hours and a few more mornings of finding an empty beer bottle on the side table.

I had an appointment at the Carolina Ballet today. In preparation for interviewing a prima ballerina, I took my four-year-old to Bojangles where I delicately consumed a chicken filet biscuit and sipped down a cup of sweet tea the size of a traffic cone. I rubbed my hands with some antibacterial foam and sucked on a splinter of a breath strip, grabbed my boy, and strode into the offices of the company.

After I had a coughing fit due to the large fog of smoke that encompassed the entrance, I was delighted to meet both the handler and her ballerina. They were very kind women, very lovely. And very thin. We walked past a couple of freakish looking women and some slight but beautiful boys. To my son's delight, the handler showed him the gingerbread men's costumes from "The Nutcracker".

All in all, the meeting went well. I had to wonder about that life, though...I can't wait to see The Company (currently midway down in my Netflix cue). And I may very well attend another ballet. But it seems a harsh life, with stringent guidelines, and a limited window for achieving anything. I don't have the artist's heart so I can't really know. But I can gawk and wonder, and watch these dancers, right through the cloud of smoke that obscures them from my view.

This is the eve of an REM album release. So different, this time! First, we have the single released well ahead of time (and before that, a snippet released), and lo and behold you can even listen to the whole album right this very minute! Wow! The Internet! Wonders of wonders! But guess what. I don't know if hearing "Around the Sun" two days ago was all that. Was it because I wasn't sitting in a late-fall sun-filled room, with friends, with a beer or two, listening on my stereo? Was it because I didn't really like the record (gasp)? Was it because I was exhausted from running around after my two darlings and perparing for my music classes? Why, dammit, why?

Ah, let's just hope the album holds promise and will hold my attention. Maybe tomorrow, on its official release day, I'll fall in love with a new REM record. Just like I have so many times before, in so many different rooms, with so many different people.

A few blogs I've read today refer to being tired of their online selves. Or not just their online selves, but every other thing about themselves. I understand, really I do. But is there something in the air? Like me, are others lives running at fever pitch and finding no time to just stop and sniff the blog? No time to sit at the computer for anything other than work, volunteer work, coersion of parents into school requirements, Halloween costume shopping, and reviews of your latest book club selection?

There is plenty of time in my day, and some of it is spent in boring, rote, trite activity. Some of it is spent in anger. Some of it is spent in the car, where at least I can listen to music. Some of it is spent working out my body, some spent working out my brain. I'm very productive. But I refuse to feel guilty when I'm not. So maybe I won't blog a lot. No one reads this anyway!

(To those of you who do, of course I'm grateful. But don't expect an apology after an absence.)