Photo via Splash

Are you stressed? Are you sad? Are you sad and stressed and tired? It has become absolute scientific fact (because I read it on the Internets) that Halloween is good for you and will fix all problems, everywhere, for everyone. Research says that no matter how bad the economy is, that Halloween candy spending and costume-buying remains on the rise, with Americans spending over five billion dollars on the holiday. That is the kind of stimulated economy behind which I can get.

And with everyone all stimulated and stimulating the economy, cheerfulness goes up, wigs get broken out, and everyone gets even cheerier--Halloween as debauched, wild crazy time for adults has come back in vogue:

Every year around this time, I mention it again, but it makes me happy--my mother always said that I should have been born on Halloween. It may have started because I was a weird little kid, but I know she meant it when I became a surly goth teenager, taking up residence in the basement and wearing only black. Halloween has always felt like it belongs to me, and not just because it is my birthday eve, but because it is my favorite holiday because it is the best of holidays.

You cannot argue with me. It has got candy, and dressing up, and sparkly things, and hilarious puns, and spooky things, and candy, and wigs, and tall shoes, and shiny things, and vampires and candy and zombies and sexiness and more sparkliness and funny hats and candy and masks and brocade and face paint and additionally, candy. In fun sizes. Candy is fun in all of its sizes, but it is the most fun when it is fun-sized. And so, Halloween wins as the greatest holiday of all of them, up to and including the ones at which you get food and/or presents. Because you get food AS presents. And that food? Is candy!

Element Pilates: Weight Loss for Beginners is hands-down the best Pilates DVD I've ever done. I will admit that I'm partial to Pilates as a strength training routine. Although I enjoy all the themey takes on Pilates, nothing really compares to the genuine mat work classes I've taken. This DVD is genuine Pilates. The instructor, Brooke Siler, constantly reminds you how to breathe and how to hold your body; all those analogies that seem silly, really help you to perfect the postures without a real-life instructor to correct you.

The workout is split between two workouts that can be done together for a complete workout. The workouts are strength- and cardio-based, but don't let the cardio heading fool you--the whole DVD focuses on toning and there's no huffing or puffing or jumping up and down to pump oxygen into your blood.

I've never seen quicker definition in my body as when I made a Pilates mat class a regular part of my exercise routine. Unfortunately, my schedule no longer works in conjunction with those classes, and I've been sorely (or not so sore, heh) missing them--I think I found my replacement.

The whole DVD is 48 minutes, and it goes by fairly quickly. The routine is well-rounded and works it's way through your body. I felt it most the next day in my thighs, abs and lower back-otherwise known as the core, which is pretty much the goal, so mission accomplished.

image via 101 Cookbooks

On the one hand, Halloween is all about the delicious, delicious candy. On the other hand, if you eat nothing except delicious, delicious candy, you will go into sugar shock and your heart will seize up and your eyes will roll back in your head, and in that condition, how can you eat even more candy? So I would suggest that maybe it is prudent to save a little room in your stomach and a little piece of your heart for actual, nutritious food. If you can make it Halloween-themed, it might even be just as good! Nearly.

Heidi of 101 Cookbooks, a site that is as dear to our heart as candy, has pulled together a collection of Halloweenesque recipes from the misty, water-colored archives. Start with a roasted pumpkin salad, move on to Thai-spiced pumpkin soup, and then, who are we kidding? Back to the sugar, with caramel apples and pumpkin pies. You have to save some of that candy for the kids, right? But they can't have any pie.

Every year, Esteban accuses me of conspiring to ensure that he is always stuck at home on Halloween, held captive by the throngs of hungry witches, princesses and Hannah Montanas that descend upon our sleepy little Post WWII neighborhood. It's really not my fault that I've either been working, out of town or chaperoning an adopted ghoul on their own haunting of the sidewalks...it has just worked out that way. In fact, I kind of enjoy handing out the candy and seeing all of the kiddies parading up our walk in their secret identities. In fact, I usually throw together a costume of my own at the last minute, just for fun.

This year, yet again, I am off to the wilds of Chicago, where I plan to engage in un-lady-like activities with my besties, so Esteban is on door duty again. In penance, I always take care of stocking the bowls with goodies, including some extra-special treats for Esteban, but every year, he informs me that I have grossly underestimated the trick-or-treaters in our neighborhood, for apparently they are legion. And also, apparently the McMansion neighborhoods where you walk a mile and have only made it to six doorsteps make our little post WWII bungalow neighborhood with the small yards very appealing, so our street is often lined with parked minivans.

Whimsy Press makes some of my favorite paper goods ever in the history of paper goods. There is something about having a gorgeously graphic little notebook to make to-do lists and grocery lists and notes about work almost bearable and even a little wonderful. They make note cards, holiday cards, gift tags, and calendars, most with recycled and sustainable materials and all of them so cute. But now, to my great delight, they're offering a line of adorable things called "Mixed Greens," a collection of cards and wrapping papers and accessories made with certified Forest Stewardship Council paper, soy inks, organic and biodegradable cotton, compostable packaging. It's feel-good loveliness. And if you place an order by October 31, you get 20 percent off with the coupon code GREEN. Then write your mom and tell her you love her.

Anyone who knows me well knows that one of my personal pet peeves is Daylight Saving Time (Rant Warning: I hate it! I hate that I have no choice in the matter! I hate that time is arbitrary! I hate that you're borrowing an hour in the fall that must be paid back in the spring! I hate that I have what is essentially a week of unnecessary jet lag twice a year! Hate! Ire! Contempt! Gah!). But one interesting component is that scientists have noted a reduction in heart attacks on the Monday following the switch in the fall. They theorize that fewer people are having MIs because they use their extra hour to get some extra shut eye.

Um, holy crap?!

"Seriously, you still carry that thing around with you?"  My friend was referring to my fat picture. Yes, I have a fat picture. I carry it with me in my wallet. I have for years.

The picture was taken on a field trip in high school. I was at my highest known weight. Known, because after I hit a certain weight I stopped weighing myself. When most girls are at their physical prime and tiniest waistlines, I was at my highest weight. I was never skinny, ever, but I was a dancer growing up, and those hours upon hours of dance class had kept my weight somewhat in check for most of my life. But at 16, all the stretching and leaping and jumping (and did I mention stretching?) caused some serious damage to my hips and doctors gave me an ultimatum: "Stop dancing now or get artificial hips before you're 30."

Thirty seemed pretty far away at the time and I was game for taking my chances, but my mother, tightener of the purse strings, cut off my classes. So not only was I losing the exercise to balance my somewhat extreme eating patterns (I think I've mentioned before that I went from eating only rice cakes one day to binge eating the next), but I was pretty depressed. To me, losing my ability to dance was losing not only a part of myself, but losing a tier in my career plan. All I wanted was to be on Broadway and spend all my time in dance classes, acting classes and voice classes. I was no longer a triple threat, and I ate to console myself.

My office building is in a little cul-de-sac, with a brick courtyard, surrounded by gorgeous, old-fashioned looking heavy stone buildings with many interesting architectural details. There's a little seating area with a bench and trees, a fountain kind of place with pillars, and it's generally a pleasant little place to be--lovely to head out for five minutes, between jobs, and get some air and some sun, to eat a Hot Pocket, to not be indoors proofreading for a little while.

Almost every time I'm out there--heading in to work, heading out for sunshine, heading for a coffee break with E, heading out for the train--there are photographers taking photos of people posed in artistic ways. Some of them are people from my agency, taking new-employee photos, or stock photos of people to make mock-up ads with, or doing whatever weird creative agency photographic things they do. But frequently, there are your garden-variety professional photographers taking engagement photos of a couple in love, graduation photos of an uncomfortable-looking teen, or my personal favorite, wedding photos of a girl in a giant white dress, squinting into the sun.

Somewhere along the line, I've gotten the completely undeserved reputation for being a fashionista. I'm not being modest: I dress pretty boring, actually. I don't like patterns. I wear a lot of black. So much black that I actually have to make a conscious effort to wear colors, and when I do wear them, I only wear one at a time, paired with black something or other. I do have a lot of cool accessories (as all fat girls apparently do) and my shoe habit is off the chain, but my style is pretty classic (read: boring). My ideal outfit would be Audrey Hepburn's classic black shift in Breakfast at Tiffany's, even though my bod and coloring is much more suited to Marilyn's pink strapless from Gentlemen Prefer Blondes.