By the Twitching of My Thumb…

Happy day before Halloween! As you can see, I have already gotten into the spirit of the holiday. Today, I am playing the part of the ugly-yet-good witch, handing out candy to the children from the learning center up the street from the hardware store.

Even though I am a good witch, I made Neecie, our variety store manager and friend extraordinaire, dress up, too because; even good witches can do mean things.




She was a super good sport about it, though.

On a totally unrelated topic, look! My natural haircolor. You know, if I weren't on such good terms with Ms. Clairol, that is which, have I mentioned lately; thank god for Ms. Clairol?!

Thursday Thirteen, Edition Twenty-Two:

Thirteen Favorite Halloween Memories

1. When my sisters and I were younger, my parents took us to a haunted house put on by the local Elks club. Or, maybe it was the American Legion, whichever. The point is; it was the first haunted house that we had ever been to and it was awesome. Back then, there were no Jason, Freddy Krueger or chainsaw wielding psychopaths, only good old fashioned werewolves, vampires and, if I recall, one very tall Frankenstein’s monster. Good times.

2. While in college, my friends and I attended the town’s street party. The party was a Big Deal, with several city blocks closed off to traffic, a band on each block and hundreds of people milling about in costumes both outrageous and fabulous. One year, my roommates and I went as the seven dwarves, our Snow White was a male friend who braved the teasing of his macho friends to don a dress and a black wig; he was, hands down, the ugliest Snow White in the history of fairy tales.

3. When I was quite young, my parents attended a Halloween costume party with friends. My sisters and I were left behind with a sitter but I will never forget my parent’s costumes; my mom dressed up like a pregnant bride and my dad dressed up like a redneck with a shotgun, in search of the bastard what got his little girl in trouble. Awesome.

4. One of my duties as an employee of the Parks and Recreation Department in my hometown was to stage a haunted house for the youth of our community. My staff from the swimming pool helped with the house and we recruited kids from the High School to help as well. One of my best memories of the holiday is walking through the haunted house during the day when no one else was around. Even in the daylight, it was creepy enough to raise the hairs on the back of your neck.

5. One year, the haunted house was so terrifyingly well done; we managed to make a girl from the Middle School pee her pants. It was alright; she went home, changed and came back for a second trip through. That, my friends, is the sign of a successful haunted house.

6. That same year, my costume consisted of a prom dress I had found at the local thrift store. One of my lifeguards fashioned a wooden stake with a leather belt that wrapped around my waist, allowing the stake to protrude through a hole in the front of the dress. A little fake blood, a tiara and, boom! I was a dead prom queen. My nephew, who was around three at the time, was not a fan of that costume in any way, shape or form.

7. The first year that Hugh and I were dating, he helped with the haunted house. At that time, our location was an abandoned horse stable and it was quite cold. He stuck it out through the building of the house and helped run it all three nights that it was open. I think that is when I decided that he was a keeper.

8. The Teenager’s first Halloween, my mother sewed a fuzzy lamb jumpsuit. It was perfect for Trick-or-Treating because it had a hood and because both her hands and feet were covered. Unfortunately, she came down with a wicked virus the day before Halloween and ended up in the hospital. Not wanting her to miss the excitement of her first Halloween, the nurses took her Trick-or-Treating for popsicles at each nurse’s station in the hospital. The costume may have been a tad bit hot for that particular form of Trick-or-Treating but, she had a blast.

9. The Teenager’s second Halloween went off without a hitch; she dressed as a medieval damsel-in-distress, complete with pointed hat and long, flowing gown. My niece and nephew were with us at the time and my niece dressed as a pink and lavender unicorn so; the damsel had her favorite steed. My nephew was a bat. Not quite sure how that fit with the fairytale theme but, the three of them had a ball.

10. My niece and nephew came to visit years later and my sister and I dressed the whole clan as the characters from The wizard of Oz. My nephew as the Tin Man and the Man-Cub as the Scarecrow are easily two of my favorite costumes to date.

11. One year, when I was around eleven or so, my mom let me wear her old poodle skirt for Halloween. I’m sure she had to pin me into it and, I can’t remember how challenging that must have been but, I still remember the way the skirt would twirl around my ankles as my sisters and I walked through the fallen leaves on Halloween night.

12. When I was a teenager and trick-or-treating was no longer “cool”, my friends and I would wander the neighborhood, playing ditch ‘em which, was like hide and go seek only spread out over a much larger area and played in teams. Back then, the neighbors didn’t mind if you cut through their yards or hid in their bushes. I’m guessing now; that would get you shot.

13. This year. I’m betting this year will be one for the memory books. Fingers crossed.

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Cupcakes, Snow and Vomit. Not Necessarily in That Order

I was tired yesterday but, not too tired to kick ass at Bunco, winning the pot for Most Wins for the first time in the history of my Bunco career, all seven months of it. Jana and I carpooled to the game and she won the pot for Most Buncos so, between the two of us, we were practically rich if you consider each having $20, rich.

While we were rolling dice, Mother Nature was visiting upon us the first snowstorm of the season, making our drive home slightly less pleasant although, not terribly bad. This morning, the trees and grass were thickly frosted with wintery icing and the roads were wet and slippery. By noon, the roads were less slippery and the snow had tapered off enough to allow the melting to begin but; I understand we are expecting a second storm tonight.

Friday and Saturday are supposed to be warmer and dry so, with any luck, Hugh’s haunted house will still go on as planned and I won’t be forced to dress the Man-Cub in so many layers that his Halloween costume becomes less skinny destitute hobo and more over-dressed sumo wrestler.

The Teenager, who spent the day in bed with what I am hoping is just a wicked stomach virus and not a slowly mutating variety of appendicitis, still refuses to entertain the idea of a costume of any sort. She is, however, willing to “check” her brother’s trick-or-treat haul for suspicious candy; she even has a plan for disposing of anything that looks remotely dangerous. I told her not to worry about that; her father and I are seasoned pros at ferreting out the good bad stuff.

Which reminds me, I need to bake cupcakes for the Man-Cub’s classroom party; I tried to use my new-found Bunco fortune to purchase unfrosted cupcakes from the bakery at the Hellmouth so that I could decorate them like mummies and pass them off as homemade but, the Hellmouth has a strict policy against selling naked cupcakes.

A pox on the Hellmouth, says I.

Tired, So, So, Tiiiired

I sleep well at night. I get enough vitamin D in my diet. I don’t have thyroid issues and I’m not being woken every hour on the hour to feed a newborn, chase away a closet monster or to check the driveway to make certain my teenager has come home from a rave so; why so tired, lord?

Why. So. Tired?

On a subject sure to exhaust me even more than I am already; the pies from the Man-Cub’s school fundraiser come in today and I have to pick up our order and distribute them to our friends and family who were kind enough to contribute to the effort.

I hope the PTA moms won't hold it against me if I unintentionally fall asleep on a box of Boston Creams while they are checking out my order.

Because, people; that could totally happen.

A Title Would Be Nice But, I Got Nothin'

As predicted, we had a very busy weekend. It started early, with the photo session I did for my massage therapist on Friday afternoon. The Teenager and the Man-Cub joined me for the shoot because I wanted to pick up groceries once I was done and, since they were out of school for Parent/Teacher conferences, I allowed them to tag along.


The Man-Cub, as usual the more social of the two, leapt out of the car the second we pulled into the park where I was meeting my therapist and her family and introduced himself. He then proceeded to busy himself on the playground equipment.

The Teenager stayed in the car, texting and listening to her iPod until one of my therapists’ teenaged sons commented that she didn’t look very happy to which I replied “She always looks like that; she’s thirteen”. He then told the Man-Cub to get his sister out of the car and asked him to tell her to “Get a life”.

As one would imagine, that lit a fire under The Teenager and she joined us in the park where she proceeded to flirt shamelessly with the boys and, really, who can blame her; they are really good looking young men.

Telling them that made them turn fifteen shades of red, by the way.

The pictures turned out great, it took a little over an hour and a half and we were on our way to the grocery store where we stocked up on snacks for the weekend.

Saturday, the Man-Cub’s game went pretty much the way all of the Man-Cub’s games have gone this season-they lost. But! They had a good time and, after the game, the team was invited to one of the coach’s for a party wherein they ate hotdogs, rolled pumpkins down a hill and staged an epic battle of Seek and Destroy amongst the many haystacks. The Cub had a great time and, despite not winning a game all season, he enjoyed the holy hell out of football.

Later Saturday evening, after a delicious (non-chicken) dinner, we set up the crafting table in my mudroom and we carved pumpkins. I cleaned and roasted at least a million seeds and we enjoyed each other’s company.

In keeping with the Halloween theme, Sunday evening we dipped caramel apples and, we are now officially ready for Halloween week to begin.

What? You don’t celebrate Halloween for a whole week at your house?

Anyway, it was a good weekend but, hands down, the best conversation we had took place in the car on the way to the Man-Cub’s game Saturday morning when The Teenager pointed out some dog hair on the Cub’s uniform.

The Teenager: You have hair on your pants. Ewww, it’s probably pubic hair!

Man-Cub: You mean the hair that grows around your belly button?

The Teenager, Hugh, Chelle and the Cub: BA, HA, HA, HA, HA, HA!

For the record, while the Cub knows exactly what pubic hair is, he is loathe to voice the word penis in front of anyone. I told him he had better get over that ASAP since the fifth grade puberty talk is right around the corner.

Also for the record; he thinks the prospect of that talk is scarier than anything he might encounter on a dark street this Halloween.

The Great Chicken Challenge of 2009

While driving to the Man-Cub’s football game yesterday, Hugh and I had a lively discussion about what I should make for dinner that night and, by lively, I mean that; I threw out ideas and he noncommittally went “yeah”, “whatever”, “sounds great” and “whatever you think”.

Believe it or not, it was a typical conversation between the two of us that is, until he threw out the opinion that I depend too much on the chicken recipes in my culinary arsenal. The gauntlet, as they say, was thrown down.

I vowed to go for as long as possible without resorting to a meal featuring chicken; I'm betting I can make it three weeks, to which Hugh says- and I quote-  pee-shaw.

It’s going to be tough but, I can do it and, thus; The Great Chicken Challenge of 2009 started last night with a dinner of Salisbury steak and mashed potatoes.

Tonight, we are having lasagna with italian sausage and, tomorrow, who knows? But, you can rest assured it damn well won’t be chicken because, once a challenge is issued, I have no choice but to kick. It’s. Ass.

Oh, yeah, game on. Game on.

As Often as We’ve Done This; You Would Think I Would Get Better at It

Parent teachers conferences were yesterday and, no matter how well I think the kids are doing or how high I believe their grades to be; I am always nervous about sitting down with their teachers for the discussion. I don’t know why.

Our first conference was with the Man-Cub’s teacher. The Cub’s grades are pretty decent with the exception of a rather low-though not failing-grade in spelling. His writing grade, on the other hand? Quite high. My children are nothing if not unique in their ability to surprise.

The teacher suggested that the spelling grade has more to do with the Cub choking on the tests than not actually being able to spell. I disagree; I’ve studied his spelling lists with him and, frankly, he just is not retaining the information. We have tried having him write each word ten and fifteen times to try to get the information to stick but, no doing. Granted, the words are harder than any spelling words he has encountered before but, still; there is work to be done and, his teacher had some great ideas for us as well as some strategies that he is going to institute in the classroom.

Otherwise, the Cub is doing great and we all had a round of applause at his recent graduation from vision therapy.

The Teenager’s conference followed and I am blown away at the glowing description we got of the child from her teachers. I’m fairly certain they had the right file and realized whose parents we were and, still, glowing accolades about how well she is doing both academically and socially. One teacher commented on her ability to put her schoolwork before the quest to be popular and, I have to admit, Hugh and I both looked at each other like WTF? The Teenager? Are you sure you have the right file? But, in the end, we have to take the teacher’s word for it since they see a very different side of the child than we do. Obviously.

In addition to her grades being good (with the slight exception of a C+ in P.E. You know, like usual), she was also commended for her work on her Science Fair project (although they did not make it to the final round, she and her partner placed in the top ten which, when you consider how many projects there were, is quite impressive) and on her recently discovered talent for creative writing.

Talent for writing.

Pardon me while I bask in the moment...

….aaand done.

Today, the children are out of school and we are planning something fun this evening to celebrate their hard work and stellar achievements but, first, I have to take photos for my massage therapist. As I sit here, the weather is clear and sunny. Ten bucks says, by two o’clock this afternoon, we have a hurricane or some other freak experience of nature.

Because I used up all my good luck on having awsome kids. I'm not bitter; it's a fair trade.