This is where God would come if he had to quit blow.

Yeah, my title is hopelessly derivative. All of the good ones are. I hate writing titles. I wrote the quote down in my paper journal sometime on the weekend but I have no idea where I heard it. Possibly Lewis Black on the Daily Show?

It was a crisp Autumn day, ridiculously idyllic and it was my weekend with Deanna in this ridiculous custody agreement I've had going on with my step-dad since my Mom died, coming up on a decade now. The arrangement is as follows: he tries to be a father as little as possible and I try to remember that I'm supposed to have a life. Oh yes, I'm bitter.

Saturday I attempted to cook for my family, with mixed results, and then attempted to navigate the emotional mindfield that is a young brain, also with mixed results. I didn't really have high hopes for Sunday.

And then it was a amazing. We saw three waterfalls and approximately 17.8 million red and gold leaves. There was Sun and puppies and ponies. I slid down a muddy hill (in pursuit of a photographic opportunity) like the graceful butterfly I am and whenever Deanna could get her hands on my camera, she took pictures of my muddy ass. Deanna was happy, Grandpa was happy, I was happy. Autumn rules!