"I'm not so sure about this dress-up stuff," complained Maddie, peeking out from under the pink snout of the pig suit. "It's not really my idea of how to have a good time." It was Saturday afternoon, we had stopped by Our Best Friends to pick up some treats, and Hannah (with a little bit of encouragement from Stephanie and Jennifer) had coerced Maddie into trying on Halloween costumes.

"No, it's fun," insisted Hannah, prancing around the room. "Look, I'm a skunk. Watch out for me, if you get on my bad side, I can be a real stinker." She flipped her tail about in demonstration.

"You make a good skunk," said Maddie. "But I feel silly." The snout fell down, covering Maddie's eyes. "And I look ridiculous," she added, voice muddled beneath the costume.

"Then try something else," said Hannah. "I'm a witch now. I'll get you my pretty," she cackled, "and you're a little dog, too."

"Hey, I saw that movie," said Maddie, trying to shake her way out of the pig suit. "Okay, I'll try on something else. What do you suggest?"

"Here's one. Try this on."

"It's a hot dog."

"So? Dachshunds love it."

"Do I look like a Dachshund to you?" asked Maddie, squeezing into the costume. "You know," she observed, "there's something ironic about going from being dressed as a pig to looking like a frankfurter."

"Ooh, frankfurters," said Hannah, licking her chops. "What were you saying, something about 'bionic'? Say, that looks good on you, how do you feel in it?"

"Hungry."

"Yeah, me too. Maybe you should try another one on," said Hannah. "I'm going to be the Queen Bee."

"Oh, that looks nice," said Maddie. "You make a good Queen Bee. Which one should I try?"

"How about this green one?"

"What is it?"

"Dogzilla something-or-other," said Hannah. "It's green."

"Dogzilla!" exclaimed Maddie, pulling on the costume. "I just watched Godzilla with Ross. We watched it in Japanese. I love kaiju movies."

"Kojak?" asked Hannah. "He's not in Godzilla, it's that other guy, Ironside."

"Oh, he wasn't in the one we watched. We saw the original version, Gojira. They cut him in later. Say, how's it look?"

"Ooh, scary," said Hannah. "How do you feel?"

"Like I'm thirty stories high," growled Maddie. "Say, which way's Tokyo?"

"Hurrah! It's fall," shouted Maddie, diving into a pile of red and orange leaves. "It's finally fall again."

"Technically, no," I replied as Maddie began rolling in the leaves. "Not for a few more days. Fall doesn't officially start until the 23rd."

"Oh, foo," responded Maddie, looking up at me. Leaves stuck to her ears and chin. "I know fall when I smell it. The air is cooler, there are leaves on the ground, and Jennifer starts drinking pumpkin-flavored coffee again. All that's happened, so that means it's fall."

"Oh, really?" I asked, bending down to pluck the leaves from her hair. "What's so special about fall?"

"I love fall," said Maddie. "Fall means that it gets dark earlier, and that Jennifer and I get to watch chick flicks on DVD while you're at school, and that Halloween's coming, and after that-" She paused, scratched at an ear with a back foot, sending leaves flying.

"After that, what?"

"Thanksgiving!" shouted Maddie, diving back into her pile of leaves, knocking leaves everywhere. She looked back up at me, more leaves stuck to her face than before. "And Grandma's coming back up for Thanksgiving, Jennifer says so."

"She is, Maddie. You sound pretty excited about seeing Grandma again."

"I am," said Maddie. "I miss Grandma. She always gives me good stuff to eat when she's here, like ham sandwiches. If I'm good, I'll bet Grandma will give me turkey, or cheese, or bread dipped in gravy." Maddie licked her little black lips. "Maybe, if I'm lucky, she'll even give me pumpkin pie. I love pumpkin pie."

"Oh, Maddie," I said, brushing away the leaves. "Don't push your luck with Grandma. She might just feed you treats until you pop."

Maddie looked worried by this. "I'm not really going to pop, am I?" she asked.

---

It's been a busy weekend. Sunday was the Petaluma Poetry Walk, so Jennifer, Maddie, and I, along with our friend Jennifer Q, set off around noon with every intention of checking out the poetic events. Somehow, between an all-afternoon odyssey that included coffee, a visit to Copperfield's (where I picked up a used copy of Robert E. Howard's Almuric, Jennifer a copy of Food for Thought, and Maddie a bunch of treats), and a late lunch at Cotija Taco Shop, we arrived back at home and realized that we'd missed all the poetry. Oh, well. We had fun anyway, so maybe next year.

Saturday we made the trek up to Santa Rosa for the Sonoma County Book Festival, met up with Jennifer Q at the library for a lecture on non-fiction research, then wandered around a bit, checking out the booths. I stopped to say "hello" to Kathy from the Comic Book Box (which I never seem to make it up to now that the shop's no longer in Petaluma), and ran into David Templeton, who was dressed up in buccaneer garb promoting Tuesday's "Talk Like a Pirate Day" Salty Walt & the Rattlin' Ratlines concert at the Glaser Center (amazingly, I forgot to take a picture). Somehow, I managed not to buy any books at the Festival itself, but after lunch we wandered into Treehorn Books, where I picked up a classic pulp-era short story collection called Famous Fantastic Mysteries and a copy of Robert E. Howard's The Savage Tales of Solomon Kane. I passed on picking up Howard's pirate-story collection Black Vulmea's Vengeance, because it had a split in the binding, but might wander back over there one of these days and pick it up in spite of everything. That is, unless one of you folks out there decides to beat me to it; after all, in matters regarding piracy, everything's fair game.

"That's weird," said Maddie, craning her head to one side for a better look. "That word looks like a rabbit. What's it say?"

"Rabbitt, with two 'T's," I answered. Maddie and I were out for our morning walk, headed towards Wickersham Park, and had stopped to investigate a sign in one of the neighbors' yards. "It looks like somebody named David Rabbitt is running for City Council."

"Oh," said Maddie. "What's a City Council do?"

"Local government stuff," I replied.

"Like what?"

"Policy stuff. What gets built, what gets repaired, what does or doesn't end up getting paid for. It's hard to keep track of. People say that politics is like making sausage. Once you understand what goes into it, you tend to lose your appetite."

"I like sausage," said Maddie, licking her lips. "If politics is so hard to understand, then why even bother having a City Council?"

"They're supposed to represent the interests of the people in the community, the voters. But since they meet on alternate Mondays at three o'clock in the afternoon, most people can't make it to the meetings and voice their opinions. As a matter of fact, I don't think most people in town even have a clue who their City Council members are. They vote these people in, but for most folks, they're never much more than names on a ballot."

Maddie thought about this for a few moments, then we resumed our walk towards the park. "Weird," she said. "People vote for the City Council without knowing who any of them actually are?"

"Yeah. People are lazy. I think most of them vote for the candidates with the most interesting names."

"But that means just about anybody could get on the City Council," said Maddie. She looked worried. "What would happen if a vampire ran for City Council and won? That would be scary."

"He'd probably have trouble making it to the afternoon meetings."

"Oh, yeah," said Maddie. "I hadn't thought of that. Say, do you think this Rabbitt guy is a real rabbit? I like the rabbits down by Grandma's house."

"I doubt it. I'm pretty sure he's a person. Why do you ask?"

"Because if he was a real rabbit, I could chase him while he runs for City Council."

"That wouldn't be a very nice thing to do."

"Oh, foo," said Maddie. "I wouldn't really chase him. I was just kidding. Mostly. Say, are you going to vote for him?"

"I don't know yet," I replied. "At this point, I don't know anything about the guy other than that he's got a clever logo. But now that I've seen his name and know he's running, I can look up information on him, find out what he stands for, and try to make an informed decision."

We stopped at the corner of 5th and G Streets, looked both ways, and crossed once the path was clear. On the corner by the park, we found that someone had scrawled "Kevin Harris" onto the sidewalk in gold marker. Maddie sat down by the graffiti and looked up at me. "I know this name," she said. "Maybe Kevin Harris should run for City Council."

"There's a thought. I'll bet people would recognize his name much more easily than they would Pam Torliatt or the three Mikes. Maybe someone should start a 'Kevin Harris for City Council' campaign." I stroked my chin thoughtfully. "All they'd need to do is make a stencil that says 'for City Council,' since Kevin's name has already been written all over town."

"That's silly," said Maddie. We started walking across the park. Suddenly, Maddie stopped. "Say, I just thought of something," announced Maddie. "Maybe I ought to run for City Council."

"Oh, really?" I asked, suppressing a chuckle. I bent down and stroked Maddie's head. "Well, I think you're more than qualified," I said. "But why would people vote for you?"

"Because I've got some good ideas," said Maddie, "and because people know my name, and because I like sausage, no matter how they make it."

"Hey, I'm hungry," said Maddie, pawing at my leg. "Can I have a cookie?"

I was sitting at the kitchen table, my nose buried, as is usually the case these days, in one of my schoolbooks (The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien, in case you're wondering), so for a second I thought I'd lost track of time. I glanced over my shoulder at the clock in the kitchen. "Maddie," I said. "You just had a treat when we got back from our walk half an hour ago. I gave you a treat then. How can you possibly be hungry again already?"

"I'm famished," said Maddie. "Starving."

I reached across the table, picked up the treat jar, and began to open it, saying "Okay, if you insist. How about a piece of Liver Biscotti?"

"I'd rather have a couple of those gingerbread cookies you brought back from the market."

"I don't think so."

"Oh, please," said Maddie.

"No. I'm not opening the cookies."

"Come on. Please?" Maddie looked up at me with wide, imploring eyes.

"No. No cookies. That's final."

"Oh, foo," said Maddie, dropping her head down between her front paws. "Grandma would give me one. She's nice to me. She gives me bites of bread, and cheese, and sometimes even ham. I think she'd even give me ice cream." She looked up accusingly, one eye closed. "You're mean."

"Am I?" I reached down and lightly poked Maddie in the ribs. "I think somebody's been getting a few too many treats from Grandma."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means," I answered, "that you've realized that Grandma loves you so much that she's willing to spoil you, whether it's in your best interest or not."

"I am not spoiled," said Maddie, standing up and stomping her front foot. "I'm hungry."

"You're going to have to wait. In another half hour, it will be noon. I'm going to make some lunch then. If you're good, I'll give you something then."

"Half an hour? That's forever. Nuts." She wandered off to the living room and climbed up onto the couch to sulk. I went back to my reading. Two pages later, she was back, pawing at my leg. "Is it noon yet?" asked Maddie, wide-eyed.

---

Fashion Focus: The Well-Dressed Fireplug

In case you were wondering what the well-dressed fireplug is wearing this season, it seems you can't go wrong with a fleece jacket and a jaunty souvenir crew cap. At least, that's the look the plug on the corner of 4th and F Streets is affecting these days. Sure, the cool blue pallet he's chosen may clash a bit with his neon complexion, but in these cooler autumn temperatures, staying warm is tantamount to looking good. Way to go, fireplug; kudos to you for having the gumption to be a trendsetter.

Why bother making that long, exhausting trek all the way out to Black Rock Mesa to hang out with all the scorpions, coyotes, and neo-hippies when you can experience all the thrilling post-pagan action and chaos of the Burning Man festival right here in Petaluma? Tonight, Maureen McGuigan over at the Petaluma Mail Depot threw what may very well be remembered as the soirée of the year, the first annual Burning (Wo)Man Festival. In addition to the titular blazing effigy (constructed by Jan Frost and decorated by Jan, Janine Arendt and my wonderful wife, Jennifer Lockhart), there were fire dancers, jamming musicians, a DJ, and pixiedust-sprinkling fairies. Even Maddie had a wonderful time, although she did get frightened when the lady was set alight and had to hide in Grandma's lap for a little while.

Summer's over. I'm back in school, and not a moment too soon. There's nothing quite like having numerous deadlines and assignments hanging over one's head to keep one busy. Today, however, was a morning meant for errands rather than schoolwork. Jennifer's mom is going to be staying with us for the next couple of weeks, so while Miss Maddie was off at Petaluma Pet Groomer for a preemptive bath and brush (a clean dog is an absolute must when Grandma is coming to visit), I took care of a few last-minute odds and ends: driving around dropping things off, picking other things up, and cleaning, cleaning, cleaning.

But somehow in the midst of all the chaos I managed to do something I've been meaning to do since I moved to Petaluma. I gave myself an up-close-and-personal photo tour of the graffiti-covered, deteriorating diesel engine, caboose, and flatbed cars rusting away in the dirt lot next to the old depot. It was quite an experience; I've been a fan of trains ever since I was a kid (some kids are obsessed with dinosaurs, others dig fighter jets, I liked trains), and have had model railroads in every scale from N to O, little buildings, people, Styrofoam tunnels, and all. Somewhere along the line, I must have lost interest in toy trains. I'm not sure when, exactly, but I'm guessing it was right about the time I discovered the secret world of girls and rock and roll; however, there's still something magical, something awe-inspiring, even today, about a train.