The Candy is Bittersweet
I am looking forward to a scary witch (aka the CP) to come knocking on my door. I am sure he is full of the Halloween spirit, having had a costume parade at daycare. I hope he has a blast tonight. He does have a plan. He told me he will be giving out candy, and his Daddy will be a trick or treater. He also plans for his Mom to be a pumpkin. She actually managed to borrow a costume, so I am looking forward to seeing that as well.
Star is very much on my mind today. Halloween was her favorite holiday. She took vacation time every year so she could celebrate the way she wanted to. Last year she volunteered as a pirate on a "haunted" ship, went to a Dracula parade toured a haunted prison and attended some costume parties . She even showed up to a scavenger hunt in full pirate regalia because it was sandwiched between two Halloween events and it seemed silly to change. Or, that was her excuse. Far be it from her to miss a chance to be in costume. She owned her own stage makeup, and had taken a class in how to apply it as to look gruesome. She was pretty good at it too.
We re-posted some of her Halloween themed blog entries at Sarcasmo's Corner this week. Her delight in the trappings of the day are infectious.
I hear a trick or treater at my door! Maybe it's a scary withch.
My friend TriviaQueen found a whole lot of fun Halloween links. Go and see. If I have my time zones right, her trick or treating is a fond memory by now. But ours is just getting started. Happy candy gathering all !
Yes. those two old hippies are Sarcasdad & me. We thought the costumes apropos as the party was thrown by one of Star's friends who graciously included us on this year's guest list. More than one of them asked if we had just dug deep into the closet for our outfits. Not quite. But I honestly didn't feel like I was in costume. More like I was in comfy clothes.
It was also a bit of an inside joke. Star said that when people were introduced to her, they sometimes remarked on her unusual name, and asked if her parents were hippies. Sarcasdad and I are two of the most un-hippiest people you may ever meet. And I am sure that to our children we seem even less "hip" Sometimes Star explained her name, and sometimes she just said "yeah, they were hippies"
Our host made a toast and we all raised a plastic cup to Star, who would have, and should have been there. Halloween was her favorite holiday.
I am looking forward to the night itself, when the CP will be making the trick or treating rounds as a scary witch. His Mom posted a cute little story about him on her blog. He is one rockin' kid, even if he did get the words wrong.
I thought I saw some frost on my pumpkin this morning. On closer inspection I realized it was a bead of sweat. It was hard to tell the difference through all the fog. What is up with this weather ? The other night Sarcas-sis and I were in the kitchen getting the CP something to eat, while simultaneously holding our hair up off our necks and saying "boy, it's hot". Cause, you know, repetitious commenting takes our minds off the heat.
Usually we put a fire in the fireplace to keep off the chill from opening the door, and to help set the mood. Unless the temps become more fall like I'll have to settle for a candle in the frostless pumpkin.
I still have faith that Halloween will be the cold, if not the cold and windy, or cold and rainy All Hallow's Eve we are used to in Philadelphia. I hope so. I mean , what fun will Halloween be for all the parents if they don't get to honor the age old tradition of trying to get a coat on a kid in a costume they have been parading around the house in for a month.
"No, really sweetie. Even though Superman could leap tall buildings in a single bound, he still wore a parka when he went door to door trick or treating. Really."
Have you ever seen the show, "Dinner Impossible"? Chef Robert Irvine is presented with a challenge ala Mission Impossible. Then he, and his team go to work, preparing a meal for many under less than ideal conditions while a countdown clock ticks away in the corner. Sometimes the challenge is the location, a moving train, a construction site, or Quebec's famous Ice Hotel. Or it is the lack of cooking equipment, or as was the case on a small island, having to catch the food first. A little dramatic, but lots of fun.
I have a challenge for Chef Irvine, should he decide to accept it. Come to my house and make dinner using the contents of my pantry closet. Seven shelves filled to capacity with all kinds of foodstuffs. A quantity of consumables that would feed many times the two people who live here on a daily basis.
The pantry gets to his state every so often. There was a period of time when the Saras-kids were younger that it was laughingly referred to as "the ketchup cellar" because we had somehow managed to stockpile seven or eight bottles of the condiment. And we're mustard people! Unlike wine however, the ketchup did not improve with age. It separated and got kind of brown and ended up a casualty of my poor shopping habits. I do make a list when I do my food shopping. I consult the ad, plan my dinners for the week and make a quick check of what's on hand. But in the supermarket aisles I will remember that a recipe calls for a certain spice, and I didn't check to see if I have any so to be on the safe side I get one. This is how I have ended up with three jars of cayenne pepper on hand. Some people invest their money in the stock market. Me, I'm invested in the food market.
So Chef Irvine, the challenge , should you decide to accept, is to turn several boxes of different pasta shapes, all one quarter full, some envelopes of onion soup mix, cans of beans, some pickle relish, and whatever else you uncover in there, into dinner. Impossible? Nah ! Piece of cake compared to the time you prepared a historically correct 2 course meal in Colonial Williamsburg, using only the tools, ingredients and cooking methods available in the 1700s.
If the chef accepts the challenge I'll need a whole bunch of dinner guests. Are you in?
One Small Step
We live in a two story home which, obviously, means we have stairs that go from the first floor to the second . They are pretty standard issue as stairs go. Two steps up to a small landing, a turn to the right and ten more steps to the top, all covered in carpet.
Where the CP is concerned, steps were something that he was carried up as an infant, barricaded from as he became more mobile, assisted up as he became a toddler, followed up when he got tall enough to reach the railing, and most recently, no challenge at all as he ran up them hands free and got to the top before I rounded the landing.
But that is UP. DOWN is another story. As any parent or grandparent can tell you, there is a whole other dimension of physics that covers DOWN.
Because he listens well, the CP dutifully stops at the top of the stairs when I say "wait for me please". I used to get his hand when I put mine out, but lately he has told me, about the steps as well as many other things, " I can do it myself". And he can, but I go in front of him. You know. Just in case.
Until Sunday morning. He waited for me at the top of the stairs. I went to go in front of him, and he said. "No Mom Mom. I am the leader." (with a big emphasis on the word "I").
And so he went first. Hand on the railing, eyes front, one step at a time. Ten steps down, take a left on the landing and two steps more. All the way down I told him what a great job he was doing, and how proud of him I was. But he never once looked back. He just kept on going at the bottom of the stairs.
On Sarcasmmo's blog, I mentioned that my muse and I have not had a harmonious relationship of late. I referred to the muse as a "she" because that is the mental image I have. A little sprite-like she who provides inspiration when she wants to, like when I am at work, or in the car. And rarely, when I want her to, like, when I open up the laptop to blog.
What about you? Do you have a muse? Does it have a gender? How do you harness the inspiration?
Once More, From the Top
A woman I work with told me that her grandson, who is 18 months older than the CP had just started singing little songs, and I thought ,"really?". For the CP, singing , and talking, semed to happen simultaneously.
The other night we were at my MIL's for dinner. Her apartment, just the right size for one, is close quarters when we all show up for a visit. So, even from the bathroom, I could here the CP singing a little song as he went from room to room. I could only catch a word here and there, but it sounded somewhat familiar.
I heard "maybe". And then "save me" and an "after all"
Yep. He was singing "Wonderwall" by Oasis.
He'll be three in December.
Do the wheels on the bus still go round and round?