Right now Emily, Jess, and the boys are driving home and I'm getting ready for a monster nap. Or maybe I'll read until my eyes fall out, since our visit to the bookstore this afternoon once again paid off. (Because I really have time to read the Best American Short Stories of the Century, right?)

Though there was no Indian food on this particular weekend, Peter Uhl made a cameo, along with more Wolfgang's food than I can particularize right now. And that was only on Sunday. Saturday was really our banner day as far as gluttony goes. There were doughnuts, as promised, at the apple orchard, and the only thing better than eating fresh cinnamon-sugar doughnuts and cider on a fall morning is eating fresh cinnamon-sugar doughnuts and cider on a fall morning WITH BATMAN, which we did, because apparently he felt like putting on the suit that morning and mingling with kids and their pumpkins. And posing for pictures with ladies (but not fellows because all of the fellows stayed home to watch the Michigan game that afternoon) and not turning his neck all day long. All part of the official bat-duties - gotta earn that bat-paycheck and pay the bat-rent, you know?

So now Emily and Jess and I have run into people dressed up as Elvis, Zorro, and Batman, all in the most unlikely places. We must have really good karma or something. And speaking of karma (not really, but I need to get back to my story and I can't think of a better segue right now), we made it up to Rockford, fueled by doughnuts, chocolate pretzels, and wine (because not only did this apple orchard offer Batman, it had a winery too, with affordable wine tasting in which we partook) to try on clothes for an hour or two, until our blood-sugar crashed and we crabbed and grumbled our way home, aiming for sandwiches at the Cherry Deli which was tragically closed (tragic not only for us, but for any little children around who had to hear exactly how we felt about it being closed). Ultimately, we barely made it to Wealthy Street Bakery, and good, nutritious food, in time to prevent an epic meltdown in which all of us (but Jessica especially) would have degenerated into cuss-word-spouting, face-punching trolls. But we made it, so we didn't.

Then later (much later...many pitchers and G&Ts later) there were combat carries for everybody, and pizza rolls for some. I think the actual weekend was much funnier than the story I just told; Sunday night lethargy must be tarnishing my usually sparkling wit.

Finally, and on a completely different subject, I just want to say that I love losing daylight savings time. Falling back, and suddenly feeling like I'm sleeping in an extra hour and staying up an hour later, should be the only kind of clock adjustment there is. Let’s fall back in spring too, I say, and just keep falling back until we're all nocturnal. I really think it might be a nice change of pace.