Thursday, November 29, 2007

If It Weren’t For Negative Energy I’d Have No Energy At All

My birthday was very nice. Hugh and the children gifted me with a most awesome picnic cooler-on-wheels-gizmo. It comes with plates, utensils, wine glasses, napkins, a pewter wine stopper, a cheese board and a fancy set of cheese knives, very cool.

Hugh also risked hypothermia (not to mention his neck) to hang my Christmas lights around the porch. They look quite lovely even if he did run out of lights a mere fifteen feet from finishing (note to self: check attic for missing box of holiday lights).

I have been quite productive today. I cleaned out two filing cabinets, all of my desk drawers and a corner of my office storage room. I hope the new person appreciates the efforts and, especially the fact that I am surrendering to him, or to her; the ancient laminating machine that my predecessor passed along to me six years ago. It’s still functionable and the smell of burning plastic will be a nice reminder of my service to the cause lo these many years.

Tonight, I have my last political function as a ward of the bureaucracy; a Town Hall meeting to present the results of a large project that I have spent the last year working on. It is my coup de grace and had damn well better be well attended and hella well appreciated.

In other crappy news; the Man-Cub lost the privilege of attending after school programs yesterday following a phone call that I received from the program coordinator. Seems the child finally caved in to the taunting of the resident bully by retaliating with some name calling and, possibly, an Indian burn to the little bastard's arm. Since Hugh and I have always counseled our kids to be the bigger person and to walk away from fights; we had no choice but to punish the Cub by taking away his program time.

On the other hand, since he has been on the receiving end of the little bully-in-question’s crap since the beginning of the school year and has done a stellar job of ignoring the little asshole up til now; I do feel badly about the punishment.

Also, I kind of hope that fucking Indian burn hurt.

Wednesday, November 28, 2007

You Say It’s Your Birthday?

It’s my birthday, too! Or, more accurately, it is the tenth anniversary of my twenty-ninth birthday. I think I’m holding up pretty well for having celebrated that particular milestone ten times now. Well, eleven times if you want to be specific. You all know what that means, don’t you? I’m knocking on the door to the big 4-0; I predict that, this time next year I will be prostrate on the ground crying for my lost youth and bemoaning my sad entry into middle age.

But, that’s next year, this year I’m going to party like its 1999, which, incidentally, was the second anniversary of my twenty-ninth birthday. Rock on!

Wow! I sound remarkably chipper this morning. One would think that I have completely gotten over the fact that my dog died yesterday. I haven’t but, humor is my defense mechanism and my birthday present to myself is a day without tears so, let’s think happy thoughts!

You know what I always find amusing? Dissecting my stats and, particularly, Google search terms that bring people to this blog; the most prevalent being searches for information on the Miss Congeniality movie, starring everyone’s favorite girl next door, Sandra Bullock.

Questions regarding the care and feeding of Amish Friendship Bread feature highly as well and, what can I say people; I sucked at the Friendship Bread, please for the love of the Plain People, find a more reliable source of information. That said; to the individual who Googled the phrase “Is my friendship bread doomed?” Yes, yes it is.

And, all you poor souls who got here because you were searching for Tooth Fairy letterhead (and, Christ on a cracker, there are a lot of you); I sympathize with your plight because, yeah, been there, done that, didn’t get the tee-shirt but I did create the letterhead and, if you email me I might just part with a PDF file. You’re welcome and, never fear, you are not a terrible parent. You are a sucky Tooth Fairy but it appears, we are legion.

A few misguided souls found this blog by searching for Hugh Boobies and I, um, yeah….I have no words. My Hugh doesn’t have boobies because he is a man. If he had boobies they would be Man Boobs or Moobies if you will and, um, he doesn’t so, move along you pervs.

Three people arrived via a search for Elephantigo. My advice; see a doctor, folks.

Searches for OPI nail polish landed a number of people here as well and, hello y’all! State your name and admit your addiction; it’s the first step in the recovery process.

I had one search for Debbie Feiger. If that was my Debbie, hey girlfriend! Where you been since the second grade? Call me!

Some of the search terms that have landed people here are so bizarre, I am lost for an explanation but, for the most part I find the process quite humorous and today it has proven to be quite a good distraction from my depression.

Now, with just a smidgen of Retail Therapy courtesy of the gift card bestowed upon me by my colleagues plus a bite (or ten) of the pink frosted donut that they presented to me this morning; I’ll be all good to go.

I can think of far worse ways to spend the anniversary of my twenty-ninth birthday.

Tuesday, November 27, 2007

Fragile Circle

"We who choose to surround ourselves with lives even more temporary than our own, live within a fragile circle, easily and often breached. Unable to accept its awful gaps, we still would live no other way. We cherish memory as the only certain immortality, never fully understanding the necessary plan."
Irving Townsend.
Sleep well, Jake.

Monday, November 26, 2007

I am Having a Grinchtastic Day!

Our time in Mayberry went by far too quickly and here I am, back in the real world. My parents, sisters, brothers-in-law, Hugh and I took full advantage of the mini-vacation of course, with two-count ‘em, two-trips to the movies (Fred Claus and Enchanted), a little shopping (ok, the brothers-in-law and Hugh didn’t so much participate in that particular activity), eating until we thought we might burst (in which Hugh and the brothers-in-law most certainly were active participants) and watching our various off-spring run about the house like maniacs hopped up on the crack.

It is one of the few occasions where we, as parents, put aside the rules and routines and actively encourage our kids to stay up late, sleep in, engage in snowball fights of epic proportions, kiss dogs on the mouth (eww, sister), and to eat foods containing absolutely nothing of nutritive value. Of course, we do it all in the name of family.

But, alas, the fun had to come to an end and here I am, back to the grind.

With Thanksgiving over, I am struggling to get in the Christmas spirit. I’m not sure why I am having such a hard time getting with the program this year but I really am. The kids and I did manage to decorate the Christmas tree yesterday. It didn’t do much to help with my mood however because, Hugh, who usually helps with the endeavor was busy tending to our nine-year old black lab, Jake, who had refused to eat for my mother-in-law while we were out of town. He has gone rapidly downhill, health wise, since and we have no idea what could be wrong. All I know is that he has lost a frightening amount of weight and his eyes are not the eyes of my usually boisterous and somewhat addle-brained loveable mutt. And I am scared.

Hugh is with him at our vet’s office as I type this. The vet is hoping to rule out poisoning and, since the dog was kenneled while we were out of town, with nothing toxic within reach; I have a hard time thinking that poison is the cause. So of course I’m worried and waiting anxiously for Hugh’s call.

Later today, I am meeting with the committee charged with the task of hiring my replacement. We are going to go over the twenty or so resumes that we have received to determine whom to interview in the coming days. I can think of better ways to spend my afternoon because I’m just not that into it.

It’s kind of like breaking up with an old boyfriend.

My job and I, we had some good times. We looked good on each other and, when the spark died; it was time to move on. Now, I have to help pick out the new girlfriend and that? Is weird. She can’t be prettier than me but, on the other hand, she can’t be ugly because, what does that say about my job’s taste in girls? I mean, really.

You can see my dilemma.

Or, maybe you can’t. Either way.

Wow. This post certainly is spiraling down the drain of despair, isn’t it?

Perhaps I should quit while I'm ahead.

Oh, yes, well... too late. Carry on, then.

Thursday, November 22, 2007

Memories of Thanksgivings Past

The turkey is roasting, stuffed to the limit with my mother’s special dressing. The entire house smells like every Thanksgiving and Christmas in my memory. I can hardly wait to eat and, the beauty of it all is; I didn’t have to cook.

That right there is something to be grateful for.

The first Thanksgiving dinner that I ever cooked was for-and with-my college roommates. We were all scheduled to leave campus for our respective hometowns to spend the holiday with our families and wanted to mark the day together before we did so, we planned an elaborate celebration for the weekend before the break. It was a learning experience for all of us and, in doing it; we each gained an appreciation for our mothers or grandmothers who had cooked before us.

I was in charge of the turkey and stuffing and I must have made fifteen calls to my mother to ask questions and for clarification on answers to questions that she had already given me.

My roommates each made their own dishes and we served the meal to the boys from downstairs. The boys, I should add, were from the East Coast, Boston, I believe. They were city boys reveling in the “country life” they were finding in Colorado and we got a huge kick out of watching their experiments.

For example, the previous spring, the boys had attended the annual “Chick Days “event at the local farm implement store (not quite sure they found the “chicks” they were expecting, exactly) and had become the proud owners of a baby chick, a duckling and a small turkey, pets they had grown to love in the months leading up to Thanksgiving so; our choice of the traditional Thanksgiving meal probably appeared somewhat insensitive as far as they were concerned. Of course, that didn’t stop them from eating like they hadn’t had anything but Ramen in months.

Which, in all honesty, they probably hadn’t.

That Thanksgiving remains one of my favorite memories of the holiday. I had a lot to be thankful for and, happily, I still do, I still count my roommates among my best friends and, someday, I think we all hope to reconnect with the boys from Boston.

We won’t be reconnecting with their chicks, however because, after realizing how ridiculous an idea it was to try to raise poultry in a two-bedroom apartment (the mess, good Lord); the boys served them for dinner the following Thanksgiving.

True story.

Tuesday, November 20, 2007

Over the River and Through the Woods

This afternoon, we are making the trip to my parent’s house for the holiday weekend. Last night The Girl told me that she is both excited to go and not excited to go and, I assumed what she meant was that she didn’t want to leave her friends. She agreed that she would miss them but assured me that what she really meant was that, while she is super-excited to see her grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins, she totally dreads the prospect of spending three hours in the car, on a trip that often makes her carsick.

I can actually relate to both scenarios; I used to hate to travel to Texas to visit my paternal grandparents during the holidays; I loved my grandparents but missed my friends (especially around high school age) and the long drive often left me nauseous (it didn’t help matters that my grandmother was, um, not much of a cook and that her turkey stuffing was not at all like my mother’s. Cornbread? In stuffing? Who had ever heard of such a thing? It wasn’t until I was an adult and had cornbread stuffing made the right way that I garnered an appreciation for the taste and, as usual, I digress).

My point is; the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

In true Colorado style, the weather, which has held steady at a lovely sixty degrees throughout the entire month, is predicted to turn completely foul for the weekend. I am hoping that, by leaving this afternoon, we will miss the worst of the storm and that I won’t have to drive in snow because, if there is anything worse than having a carsick child, it is having a carsick child during a three-hour drive in a blizzard.

Cross your fingers for us and, if all goes well; I’ll be blogging live from Mayberry this time tomorrow.

Monday, November 19, 2007

He Just Can’t Take Me Anywhere

Friday night, Hugh and I attended a charity function sponsored by my service club. We go every year and, every year until this one, I have abstained from drinking the wine.

Why would I abstain from the goodness that is the fermented juice of the crushed grape, you ask? Because, due to my job, I was considered a public figure and I just didn’t think it appropriate for a public figure to get her drunk on at a fundraiser for a children’s charity.

Of course, since I announced my intention to enter the private sector, all that has changed and I felt completely justified in having a small glass of wine at the event.

This became two small glasses…

…this became a rather large glass…

…followed by another rather large glass…

…and so on.

It was very good wine and, I’m fairly certain that I had a good time. I do remember having a delightful conversation with a young couple for whom Hugh had ordered kitchen cabinets a while back. It was a lengthy conversation, I am told. Also, if one didn’t know better, they might assume that I had a string hanging from my back and my name was Miss Chatty. But, you can call me Cathy.

I didn’t care. I was having fun and, if the cost of that fun included Hugh getting a great deal of amusement at my expense, well, it was a price I was willing to pay. Because, as I said, it was very good wine.

On the other hand, the part where I blatantly stalked a woman around the event simply because I knew that I knew her and could not for the life of me place her-a fact that irritated me to the point of insanity- may have been slightly over the top.

I'm sure you'll be relieved to know that I was eventually able to identify her as a teller at the post office where I pick up my business mail. You'll also be relived to know that I’m pretty sure she didn’t recognize me so my cover as an upstanding public figure remains intact.

Despite the very good wine.

How good? Good enough for me to not have a hangover at all the next day even though I passed out fell asleep immediately upon returning home from the event (I meant to sleep in my sweat bottoms, honestly). In fact, I felt so good on Saturday; I wrangled all five huge boxes of my Christmas village pieces down from the attic and set the village up in record time.

I also cleaned the house, shopped for groceries, entertained the Man-Cub while The Girl was away at a sleep-over and provided sparkling conversation at dinner. In short, I should drink very good wine more often.

And, um, we’ll just forget about that unfortunate stalking incident, mkay?

<---------Not drunk. Not drunk at all.

Thursday, November 15, 2007

Hey! Who Hit Fast Forward?

Thanksgiving is a week from today.

(All hail her royal highness, Princess Obvious! Thank you, thank you very much)

Now, I am all for roasted turkey and mashed potatoes smothered in my mother’s gravy….gaaarggg….graaaavy….but!

Seriously; a week?! How did that happen? Better yet, where has this year gone? Next weekend I will be decorating the Christmas tree and hanging freaking mistletoe in every doorway, and; didn’t I just kiss the UPS man and un-decorate the tree like, yesterday?

I could have sworn I did.

Well, the tree part anyway. Our UPS man is actually a UPS woman and I’m just not that attracted to her.

Where was I? Oh, yes...a week, people! Where does the time go?

Tuesday, November 13, 2007

That’s Just Wrong

Yesterday, I wrote about a car-jacking that had taken place near our community and specifically about the measures taken to apprehend the suspect (Cop Talk 101); measures which included full-on use of every available law enforcement officer within a twenty mile radius of our town, two helicopters patrolling overhead for six hours, the services of two tracking dogs and the use of the Reverse 911 phone system to alert the residents of our fair city as to the possible danger lurking outside their doors.

Can you imagine the cost involved in such efforts?

Well, let me tell you; somewhere in the neighborhood of $30,000. 00. That’s thirty thousand dollars. American. US currency. Thirty-thousand.

Guess who pays that bill, generally speaking? We do. The tax payers. It’s a price that we are willing to pay for a sense of security and well-being within the walls of our homes.

We get a deal this time, though. This time the entire bill is going to the supposed "victim" of the alleged "car-jacking"; a teenager who, you’ll never guess; made the whole thing up.


I am outraged.

Thirty-thousand, schmirty-thousand, I missed my weekly Jacuzzi bath, people!

You can't put a price on that.

Monday, November 12, 2007

Danger Will Robinson! Danger!

For living in such a small, safe community, my weekend was unusually fraught with peril. Actual peril.

Friday, Hugh and I purchased a new flat screen television to replace the television that had been with us since the early years of our marriage. Upon finalizing the purchase, Hugh loaded the new television into the back of the Tahoe and sent me merrily on my way back to work while he drove in the opposite direction to deliver cabinets to a nearby housing development.

By the time I got home at the end of the day, I had completely forgotten about the rather huge box in the back of the car and was therefore quite shocked when I opened the rear door only to have the behemoth television box leap out of the rear cargo area clearly intent on doing me harm.

I narrowly avoided being crushed by my new electronics, is what I am saying. See? Peril. In my own garage.

Saturday, I attended a fancy-pants charity event at the local golf course where I discovered, to my horror, that my modeling service would include walking down a circular staircase while wearing four inch heels. And, skin tight dresses. Dresses with trains.

And, four inch heels; did I mention the four inch heels?

People. Walking while chewing gum has been my undoing on more occasions than I like to admit so you can imagine the anxiety produced by this particular task but; I did it. I’m not saying I did it well but, I did it. Panicking the entire fucking time, I assure you.

All that peril pales in comparison to my Sunday morning shopping trip with The Girl, though.

How could a holiday shopping spree with a pre-pubescent girl be at all perilous, you ask?

You try shopping with a pre-pubescent girl who is all kinds of jacked up on the Starbucks sometimes, my friend, and then ask that question. I dare you.

Because, if I thought my daughter talked a lot before the Grande peppermint mocha (and, I did), the volume and rapidity of conversation that followed its consumption was enough to blow my mind.

Pre-pubescent girls + Caffeine = a combination not to be trifled with.

Try it sometime. At your peril.

Speaking of pre-pubescence and things fraught with peril, this morning, The Girl mistook the pattern in her underwear for a blood smear and freaked the fuck right out. We are talking shower scene from Carrie freak-out, here. It took me a good minute to calm her down enough to realize-and to laugh at-her mistake.

On an aside, I hope to God she is at home when she does eventually start her period because that type of reaction happening in school would scar every sixth-grade boy for life. Some of the girls, too, probably. Hell, I’m an adult and I’m scarred.

And, I digress.

Anyway, last night we capped off the Weekend o’ Peril with a virtual lock-down of our small community when a carjacker from a town to the North of us ended up on our streets after the car ran out of gas. The owner of the car, who had been along for the ride, was unhurt and able to give a pretty good description of the carjacker as well as to indicate the direction he took off in. So, of course, the entire local police department, sheriff’s department, a tracking dog and two helicopters were dispatched to hunt him down.

Like an episode of COPS, minus the soundtrack.

And, I would say that it was exciting but it wasn’t, really.

In fact, it was a total buzz-kill for me since Hugh enthusiastically volunteered was required to join the manhunt and I was forced to forgo my usual Sunday night soak in the Jacuzzi tub.

I mean, I could have taken the bath, I suppose but; I was just the teensy-tinsiest bit afraid that the car-jacker would choose our house to break into and, I theorized, if that happened he would naturally try to steal my new television set.

People, I did not escape death at the hands of that electronic bitch just to hand it over to the first thug who comes along; I was fully prepared to beat him bloody with a four inch heel while screaming like a pre-pubescent girl who just saw blood in her panties for the first time if that was what it took to protect that television set from harm.

I mean, there is peril and then there are priorities.

Thus endeth the Weekend o' Peril.

Friday, November 09, 2007

Friday, Glorious, Friday!

This week has been gruesome and I am happy to be rid of it.

I’ll be happy to be done with its next five brothers as well. That’s right! Only five more weeks of working for da man! Then, I can drop all pretense of political correctness and say exactly what I like without first running it by the tiny censor inside my brain*. My mouth is looking forward to having free reign and my brain censor; she is tired and looking forward to a vacation. Tahiti, perhaps.

On a related and rather sad note, do you know what it takes for me to lose all respect for another human being whom I had previously held in very high regard? That person making a nasty slur against the intelligence of another person whom I happen to respect a great deal. Just one bitter, nasty statement is enough to undo eight years of respect. Wow. Who knew?

Moving on.

I don’t have any big plans for the weekend. I am modeling at a charity fashion show Saturday night. The event takes place at the country club of one of our nicer golf courses so it should be fancy, if not fun.

(which reminds me; I should probably break out the hair dye and deal with the silver streak in my hair, skunk is probably not the best look for the runway. )

The rest of my time will be taken up with the usual mundane household chores as well as some scrapbooking. The excitement, it is overwhelming.

Of course, I’ll take doing mundane household chores over tromping through political bullshit, any day.

*To clarify: the censor, she is tiny; my brain? Huge. Like, seriously, yoooge.
I'm just sayin'.

Wednesday, November 07, 2007

As Long As She Doesn't Drink the Kool-Aid

Yesterday The Girl called me from school to tell me that she had joined the band. Her tone of voice was a twee bit defensive; better suited to declaring that she had joined a cult than a program included in the school curriculum. It was almost as though she was worried that, upon hearing her declaration, I would immediately forbid her doing it.

And, you know, hire deprogrammers to throw her ass in a windowless van right in front of all her classmates.

Ok, that would be cool.

And, I digress.

So, I am not a musical person but, as I may have mentioned (ten or twenty times), I participated in band when I was in High School and it was a great experience so; I have no idea why she might suspect that I would be anything but pleased.

Kids, they are weird.

Anyway, I asked her what instrument she was thinking of playing and braced myself for her response (drums? Are you sure you wouldn’t rather join that cult, hon?). To my relief, she thought that the flute would be her chosen instrument and I heartily approve. For one thing, I can actually see her playing the flute.

In fact, was she ever called upon to represent an animated instrument in a Disney cartoon; she could totally be a flute. She is long and thin, delicate and, you know, able to screech at a pitch that a flute would have no difficulty in producing.

What? You don’t assign animated characters to people you see in everyday life? You have never, for example, while trapped in an endless ballet class; envisioned your child’s ballet instructor as a purple hippopotamus in a hot pink tutu as she led the class in a demi-pliĆ© series at the barre? No?

You lack imagination, my friends.

(Also, in the interest of full disclosure I should mention that my son is a dead ringer for Mowgli, the jungle boy which, hello, Man-Cub, like, duh! Also, my father is totally Baloo. Not that he knows that, but, there ya go. Oh. I guess he knows it now. Hi, Dad!)


Yeah, The Girl is joining the band. I hope she has a talent for the flute and an interest in sticking with band throughout her school years.

Because I am totally looking forward to chaperoning band trips; I know what goes on on those trips.

Monday, November 05, 2007

Back at Work


That is all.

Sunday, November 04, 2007

I Have Seen the Future and I Am Scared

Friday afternoon, The Girl attended her first Middle School dance. She and her friends had been looking forward to this rite of passage for weeks; borrowing clothing from one another and brutally dissecting each other’s dance moves, hoping to stamp out any sign of dorkiness.

The Girl was particularly concerned with the correct way to slow dance because- you might want to sit down for this- she has a boyfriend. I’m sorry I did not tell you sooner, internet but, it is a recent development, which, by the way, has proven somewhat stressful to the child’s father. Me, on the other hand? I am totally fine with it because I am Cool Mom, la, la, la,…no problems here.

Luckily, the boy in question is the son of a friend and Hugh has coached him in wrestling for several years. In addition, according to my husband, the boy is terrified of him. I think it is ridiculous to take pleasure in a young boy’s fear but am willing to overlook it, under the circumstances.

Anyway, Friday afternoon The Girl called to ask if I would drive over to the school to take pictures of her and her friends. I strongly suspected that she wanted a picture of her and the boy so I went. For the record, the child did not appear to be in the least bit intimidated by me; posing obediently and politely for a picture with The Girl, in fact, it was all so sweet; I thought I might be developing a cavity right there.

She is growing up so fast.

Also, isn't he dreamy?

But, let's get to the scary part.
Yesterday I took The Girl and her best friend to the mall for some early Christmas shopping. The girls wanted to go to Hot Topic so we did and, lord gawd almighty, I am scarred for life, people. The thought of my sweet precious baby shopping at that store on a regular basis shakes me to the very core of my being. I mean, I know I joke around about her eventually turning Goth and all that but, Christ on a cracker, if that really happens; my soul will shrivel and die.

On the other hand, at least I will know where to shop so, Christmas and birthdays will be a breeze.

Thursday, November 01, 2007

Halloween Recap
I cannot believe the Annual Stay at Home Mother Project is almost over; the days have gone by so quickly.

Tuesday was taken up with work at the store as well as what has come to be known as The Great Pie Fiasco of 2007. Why? Allow me to illustrate:

A. Not enough volunteers to sort and organize the pies.

B. Too many parents who neglected to follow the procedure for picking up their child’s pie order, instead grabbing whatever they happened to see and,

C. Not enough supervision of the whole process.

Also, remember when I said that I was expecting about three thousand pies? I was a bit off; the kids sold a total of 52, 000 pies. Not kidding, fifty-two thousand pies. Moreover, we had to unload them from the refrigerated truck in which they arrived so, my arms are still sore. Oh, and I broke a nail. I know! Tragedy!

Of course, as the major fundraiser done by our school, it was totally worth it, broken nail and all. Because, 52,000 pies=major money for field trips and playground equipment and after all, it's all about the children.

(Please remind me of that when I am making excuses not to volunteer for the Great Pie Fiasco 2008, kay? Thanks!)

On a different note, yesterday’s pre-school costume contest proved just as agonizing as I had feared; the sheer number of costumes was amazing and the variety astounding. Thank goodness, we had plenty of free cookies with which to comfort the kids (parents) who failed to win prizes.

After the costume contest, I went to the Man-Cub’s classroom party, armed with two and a half dozen pumpkin fudge swirl cupcakes frosted with dark chocolate. The cupcakes were a huge hit with the kids but my favorite part of the party, personally, was watching the costume parade, especially when the teachers paraded in their costumes.

The third grade teachers dressed as the characters from Alice in Wonderland complete with Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum, the Queen of Hearts, Alice and the Cheshire Cat.

The Fifth grade teachers chose The Wizard of Oz , including the Tin Woodman, the Cowardly Lion, Dorothy, the Scarecrow and a flying monkey. A flying monkey, people! Awesome!

The second grade teachers dressed as the characters from Little Red Riding Hood and the first and fourth grade teachers garnered loud boos from the children (parents) for failing to dress up at all.

After the party, the Cub and I reverse Trick-or-Treated at the hardware store; handing out the last of our cupcakes before heading home to make dinner before Jana and the kids arrived. For the record, this was the best Halloween dinner that I have ever made.

For obvious reasons.

After dinner we Trick-or-Treated around the neighborhood and attended the local haunted house, which had been postponed from the night before due to a small fire in the building (note to teenagers decorating for a haunted house; never leave flammable materials on a heat register).

The kids enjoyed the experience and, by the time we got back to the house they were more than happy to sort through their candy and relax while the adults spent some quality time handing out candy to the remaining Trick-or-Treaters who, by the way, declared Hugh’s decorations the best they had ever seen.

I have no doubt.

Another Halloween successfully completed.
(Click on photos for larger view)