This morning I woke up in a not-so-good mood. Not a bad mood, really, just not good. After another night of little sleep (which my doctor assures me will improve by taking a Benadryl every night--what???), I just didn't want to get up and start work (even though my job is just downstairs, and I can wear pajamas if I want to).
So, sitting down at my computer, I still couldn't bring myself to start working. I did my daily check of family and friends' blogs before settling in for work. Somehow I ended up at the blog of someone I don't even know and found this HILARIOUS story. It caught my eye because it starts out with "I don't like Halloween." I literally laughed out loud for a long time (Gene was taking the girls to school and I was all by myself). And when I read it again, I laughed more. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did. If not, . . . WHATEVER! It's funny!
I don't like Halloween. I never really have. Even as a kid I found it very hard to decide on what to be. And I always opted for a run-of-the-mill cowboy or pirate. And even these simple costumes annoyed me by the end of the night: an eye patch became a sweaty burden; make-up dried on my skin; some garment inevitably made it difficult to walk. This list goes on. And then there were the two years, 9 years apart, where I thought I'd had it figured out.
1977 saw me cultivating a true love of KISS. And for Halloween I thought I'd go as Peter Criss, the drummer, whose character was a cat (for those of you not in the know, KISS wore full-face stage make-up and lots of leather during the 1970s). Of course, I didn't have leather, or real boots back in 1977, but I did have long hair and my mom's make-up. So, with Mom's help, I donned a dark shirt, a denim jacket, blue jeans, and her boots with the tops adorned in tin foil. And, of course, the make-up. And off I went to the Ella B. Allen elementary school Halloween party.
There was, of course, a costume contest, and all the kids got in a line and traipsed across the stage a couple of times. The judges then announced the five finalists: "The Princess, The Dragon, The Butterfly, Puss-in-Boots, and Sir Walter Raleigh. You are the five finalists. Please stay up on the stage." So, I lost. No big deal. I turned and started to walk off stage. "Where are you going?! You're one of the finalists!" "No I'm not," I said. "Yes! Puss-in-Boots!" My face turned a little bit red, I hung my head a little and muttered something like "I'm not Puss-in-Boots."
"He's in KISS!" said a mystery voice from the audience. "Oh, I'm sorry! Oh well, you still need to get back on the stage." So there I was, demoralized, embarrassed, emasculated even (there's irony in that one). I ended up losing, of course. But that right there convinced me that Halloween costumes were for chumps.
I LOVE to laugh!
Every year we tell the girls that we aren't "doing" Halloween. We were determined to stick to our guns this year, but, as usual, somehow they managed to talk us into letting them go Trick-or-Treating. They came up with their own costumes (Krista was a dog again, and Leah was Wednesday Addams), and they went out with a couple of friends. Unfortunately, they didn't get dressed in their costumes at home, and they took them off before they got home, so we didn't get any pictures of them dressed up.
Bristow was very interested in the candy.
She REALLY wanted some candy!
