It’s the part of October when I can’t remember what we’ve covered and what’s still to come. See, there’s no plan here. Just October chaos.

So much of October for me is interwoven with the memories of Halloween celebrations during my childhood.

I think often of the Halloween party we hosted when I was maybe seven or eight. My whole class was invited up to the house on Hill Ave., up in the canyon, on the dirt road past the end of the pavement. The house is still there, the road is still unpaved.

I don’t remember what my costume was that year, but my grandmother had just had cataract surgery and dressed as a pirate. My mom, no doubt, was a witch (I think she had three or four full witch costumes over the course of my childhood).

Plastic spiders were strung on fishing line across the opening from the kitchen and dining area to the living room. The coatrack in the corner by the fireplace wore an overcoat and a Frankenstein mask. My mom made a million donuts in our donut maker, two at a time.

It’s still the greatest Halloween party I’ve ever attended.

I need some donuts.