I love October. It's my favorite month of the whole year. I love the holiday season, too...but for some reason I love the anticipation of the holiday season more than the actual holiday season. I love the air being so clear and the leaves changing colors...and I think I love the autumn because I think it's the only time that the death of something looks absolutely beautiful. Does anything look more beautiful than a dying leaf? Tell me if you think of something.

Today we went to an Indian reservation. I had been taught all through college that the politically correct nominclature is Native American. But right in front of this reservation, it said "Indian Reservation."

There was a festival with many different tribes represented, and a lot of artists selling their work. There were dancers and singers and buffalo burgers.

We were right in the middle of the area where the artists' sell their work when Ollie started complaining. He wanted to go home. He was whining loudly. I was trying to talk him out of his bad mood. I took him in and out of the different artisans' booths. I tried to interest him in some of the beaded leather, the silver laden with turquoise, the bundles of sage. But he continued to complain. I told him he would play no video games tomorrow if he kept complaining. That quieted him down for a few moments.

But then, he furrowed his curled-up eyebrows, looked up at me and said very loudly, "I DON'T LIKE NATIVE AMERICANTH!"

I whisked him away, wondering if I could hide in a nearby teepee. . . .