Another Halloween in the books

 

Jordan and I have taken the same picture for several Halloweens now. In truth, I think I look better this year than in some previous years (well, maybe not--I just looked again), but she always makes an adorable witch. We live in an older neighborhood with sidewalks, big houses (ours is not), and generous people—which means that hordes of people come trick-or-treating in our neighborhood. There are traffic jams, cars parked end to end in every available spot, and a steady stream of children—and adults—coming to the front porch carrying everything from pumpkin shaped containers to pillowcases. Some of the tricksters are so young, they can barely toddle up the walk, and I said I think a few must be wondering, “Why are my parents doing this to me? I want to be home in my bed.” Nonetheless, it’s all festive and fun.

Christian claims Halloween as one of his favorite holidays, and he decorates inside and out lavishly. The front yard has skeletons and tombstones and scary spiders, none of which the kids pay much attention to. But he and Jordan both are in their element handing our candy to kids, and some of the kids are irresistible.

I spent some time tonight talking to one of Jordan’s high school friends—he was her very first boyfriend and is still family—and he said, “It wasn’t like this when we were kids.” But he grew up in another neighborhood. The kids and I lived in Berkeley for two years when I was first a single mom, and I don’t remember the crowds either. But when we moved back in 1992, they were here and have been every year since. After my kids were grown and gone, some years I turned out all the lights and hid in my study (the light from the computer gave me away, but most people were respectful). A few years I was in Austin for Texas Book Festival and handed out treats at Megan’s house—in those years Jordan generally came to man the front porch at my house. Other years I turned out the lights and went next door to the neighbors’, where Susan served beef stew and, artist that she is, provided grocery sack costumes for each of us. Yes, Halloween has pleasant memories even if it is not my favorite holiday.

Sophie did not like it at all tonight. She knew I was going into the big house—her instinct for that is unerring—and she is immediately insistent that she go too. Tonight, Jacob came to get me (I need help on the stairs to the deck) and locked her in the bathroom until I was safely inside. Then he let her out but kept her locked in the cottage. She’s one of the reasons I came back out early. I don’t mind leaving her alone when I go out to dinner or something, but I feel guilty when she knows I’m on the property and she’s not allowed.

Now that I’m back, she’s in the yard, but she just started barking, so I tricked her into coming inside. I am definitely over-protective of her, but Halloween is one of those nights when I feel it best to keep dogs and cats—and rabbits and whatever you have—inside. You never know. Sophie neither understands nor likes my logic and is itching to go outside.

Jordan fixed her usual delicious spread of veggies and dip, and various guests brought potato salad, dip and chips, etc. I contributed green bean salad, one of my favorite new recipes  (who needs a recipe for bean salad, but you’d be surprised by this one), and Christian grilled hamburgers. But a little after seven, he had just started the grill, and with thirteen people on the porch, plus the crowd on the street, it was getting so noisy I couldn’t hear. Jordan walked me back to the cottage and about seven-forty-five brought me a plate of supper. So good! But I was glad to be back in my quiet cottage.

By nine, nine-thirty or so, the crowds melt into the darkness, and Halloween is over for another year. And I’m always a bit glad. So the decorations will go down, and the world will return to normal. Next up, Thanksgiving, and think how fast it’s coming!

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                

A Halloween shock

 

Note the parked cars and traffic

Real Halloween, as distinct from last night’s neighborhood festival, was predictably crowded. The best estimates I’ve heard are that we routinely get about 1400 kids, almost all from other neighborhoods, because local kids did their trick-or-treating last night. These kids arrive by the carload, and our streets are lined with parked cars. General routine is for parents to wait at the sidewalk, while the kids come up for their treats. Little ones however are carried and often look bewildered. Costumes range from a black T-shirt to an elaborate (and huge) dinosaur with ghosts, goblins, brides (one so pretty), skeletons, robots—you name it, many very inventive.

Can you find the baby in the basket?

We sat on the porch while Jordan was the main dispenser of candy—she really enjoys it and has a great greeting for each child. The children, in turn, are polite and say thank you, except for one kid who muttered, “More.” Christian had made a pot of tortilla soup, and the plan was everyone was to eat when hungry. I opted to come back to the cottage a little after seven—it was getting chilly—and reheat the leftover vegetable soup I had. But Christian scooped up two of Jordan’s chocolate chip cookies and one brownie for me. No, I didn’t eat it all. The brownie is in a baggie, waiting for tomorrow.

Jordan waiting for the kids

Sophie is a problem on porch party nights. She has an unerring sense of when there’s going to be a party in the house and she, by gosh, is not going to be left out of it. One notable night recently, she snapped at Jordan when she reached for her collar. Tonight, Christian and Jacob both came to get me—one to help me negotiate the stairs and the other to corral Sophie. She knew what was happening. They lured her inside, but she tried to bolt, and Christian was like a football player, dancing to run interference before she escaped. Jacob was reluctant to grab her but did, and we made a not-so-smooth getaway. When Christian walked me back out, she still wanted to go in the house—note she didn’t care where I was. She managed to bolt inside this time, but Jordan brought her back fairly soon. After a few minutes, if you ask her if she wants to go home, she goes to the back door. Now, she’s sleeping peacefully at my feet. Having a spoiled dog is one thing; having one control my behavior to that extent is another, and she’s about to get pulled up short.

Halloween was almost overshadowed on our porch, in the TCU community, and I suspect in the national football community by the sudden announcement this evening of the resignation of Coach Gary Patterson, who has led the football program for twenty-one years, built it to national prominence, been influential on the TCU campus and in campus life in so many other ways, but suffered three bad seasons in a row. To say it’s controversial is an understatement. I am neither a big football fan nor an expert on the politics of football, but I think this will turn out badly for TCU, with a loss of respect and prestige. But maybe not money.

And that’s what I have been hearing over the weekend—winning football teams bring in money and recruit new players. Christian says that’s the way of the world but agrees with me it’s morally wrong. TCU did not fire Patterson; official word is he resigned. But I read somewhere that the AG, a man faceless to me who is named Donati, did not like Patterson’s plans for offseason. They apparently asked him to continue to the end of the season and then take a new role—effectively either a dismissal or demotion. He declined, said it was best for the team if he left now, and met with the players to announce his departure. Good for him. For years, I tired of hearing how financially strapped TCU was, how they would close the press, cut this corner and that, couldn’t afford to have the trees trimmed. This buyout means they owe Patterson and his team a sum so large you can’t even think about it—I only hope it doesn’t come out of funds meant for academic programs.

That’s really more than I know about the matter for sure, so I am, repeat, not qualified to comment. But I do know about loyalty and gratitude, and beyond finances, TCU owes those great debts to Patterson. Somehow, I don’t think they took the high road.

Halloween, family, and all good things

Alter family witches
Jamie, Judy, Christian, Jordan

Years ago, a man I was dating said to me, “Once a mother, always a mother.” It’s a sentiment I embrace, and this mother’s heart was gladdened yesterday when third child, second son Jamie came for the day. Jame lives in Frisco—not that far—but he works (safely from home these days) probably at least twelve hours a day. A lot of his business is done by internet and phone to people in countries in far different time zones, so his hours are irregular.

He came yesterday to bring me a camera for my computer. It sits on top of my remote monitor, so now I don’t have to pull out the laptop, juggle things on my desk, and struggle to go to a Zoom meeting. When he first set it up, I took one look and protested, “But I look so old!” Jamie knew a magic adjustment, something in settings that essentially says, “Make me look better.” It sort of worked. When Jamie repeated this story to others later in the evening, Jordan said, “But, Mom, you’re only fifty-five.” In my dreams.

Jamie could have come, installed the camera, and made it a short visit, but he came to spend the day, bringing his computer and his own remote monitor. We talked and we laughed and I caught up on his family—one of my granddaughters is a senior in college and the other a senior in high school—and we both worked. We ordered sub sandwiches for lunch, which was great even if they did put olives on mine! And just about the time I wanted to nap, Jame announced he and Jacob were going to hit some golf balls. Perfect timing!

Last night, our neighborhood had a pre-Halloween celebration for neighborhood kids, in an effort to avoid spreading contagion. Jordan went to a lot of trouble to provide sealed bags of treats, tables out by the sidewalk, etc. We were all prepared—but as she said, it was like giving a party and no one came. We had very few trick or treaters. We live on the edge of the neighborhood and later heard that streets in the interior had lots of visitors. Meanwhile we sat on the porch with a few friends, enjoying a smoky pinion fire.

Halloween is Christian's holiday
He puts up the tombstones--and you should see inside the house
The trick-or-treat delivery method is Jordan's

Jamie put his work aside to join us on the porch—the almost Hunter’s Moon was smashing! But when I got too chilly, he and I came back to the cottage—more talk for a couple of hours. We talked about family and holidays—we are sad we won’t all seventeen be together for Thanksgiving—and his work, in international sales for a huge toy company, the pros and cons of working from home, and so on. When a child will spend that kind of time talking to you, a mother’s heart can't help but be gladdened.

Tonight of course is the real Halloween. Traditionally neighbors give out well over a thousand treats, our streets are crowded with neighborhood kids and many from other areas. Traffic comes to a standstill, with cars stopped in the middle of the street. The local ambulance company brings two severely handicapped children, with proper medical attendants, to have a taste of Halloween. Houses are lavishly decorated. This year, several households have elected to stay dark, and the handicapped kids are not coming—no one wants to expose them.

We have no idea if anyone will come. Avoiding those crowded sidewalks was part of the impetus for last night’s pre- celebration. But will they come tonight? Will pandemic keep families home? If they come, will they wear protective masks?

Jordan is prepared with plenty of snacks and a plan to serve us hot dogs for dinner. As I write, it’s six o’clock and barely dusk, so it will be another hour before we know how many trick or treaters we’ll have. The whole thing has somewhat split the neighborhood—some families insisting on the traditional date, others willingly embracing the alternative, many saying they would give out candy both nights. Jordan and Christian have elected to celebrate both nights. Having gotten thoroughly chilled last night, I will stay in the cottage tonight, although the temperature is more moderate tonight.

But I plan to stick my nose out to admire that moon. You should too.

And a bonus from my good day—Jamie left his remote monitor here, hidden behind my couch, for the next time he comes. So that means he’ll be back sooner or later.

Busy night, busy day

This cute witch greeted trick-or-treaters

at our house

Omigosh, what a busy twenty-four hours. Halloween was hectic as it should be—lots of polite little kids in cute costumes. I had the perfect seat—inside the front door where I could see all the kids but wasn’t out in the cold. And I could snack on all the goodies laid out, mostly a re-run of the night before but I added a chili-cheese dip. When a friend wanted the recipe, I said it was awfully difficult: mix equal parts of canned chili (preferably Wolf brand, with beans) and Velveeta (get the 1 lb.box, not the big 2 lb. one). Don’t let it boil, because it will get a funny texture, and don’t let it scorch—Velveeta will burn. Serve warm and reheat as needed.

After a while, I’d had enough and retired to the cottage—one of the great advantages of my living arrangement. But maybe it was the chili, or I don’t know what. I had such a busy night. I have always had vivid, four-color dreams that stay with me in the morning. Sometimes I have a dream that persists—if I wake and want to get out of a dream that for some reason makes me unhappy, I can’t get rid of it. Takes a real effort.

That didn’t happen last night, but in my eight hours or so of sleep I did a lot of work on the project that I’m considering for my next after I finish the one I’m working on (I know, I should finish this one and stop thinking ahead); I wrote a juvenile story about a green dinosaur that stole a hamburger from the Star Café, owned by good friends Betty and Don Boles—somehow, dimly, I realized that here had to be more character development for a walking talking dinosaur if he was at the center of the story, and why the heck did he steal the hamburger anyway. Gave that one up fortunately. I also attended a convention of Western Writers of America—for years I was active in that group, on the board, president for a term, but I haven’t been in years, the travel having discouraged me. Finally, I dabbled in real estate—walking through large apartments in the Caverswall, a building down the street from the house I grew up in. Where that mishmash came from, I have no idea.

Instead of waking up tired, I woke with all kinds of plans for the day—and I’ve accomplished most of them. Some good work on the book I should be focusing on, stringed that pound of green beans I forgot I had in the fridge, froze the rest of the meatloaf, feeling it had lingered in the refrigerator long enough; took a sweater to the cleaners. But all my efficiency crashed when I started to make chocolate chip cookie dough—I had only defrosted half the butter needed. Now I’m waiting for a frozen stick to defrost.

Next on my ambitious list is supper. I will make shirred eggs. I could have said a baked egg, but shirred sounds so much more like a gourmet. I’ll put a slice of buttered sourdough toast in a ramekin, cover it with a bit of chopped spinach and then grated cheese, top with a raw egg and cover that in a bit of milk.

I’m worn out. Guess I’ll bake cookies tomorrow.

Happy Soggy Halloween

The rain cleared in time for most trick or treating here in Fort Worth, but it sure looked grim for a while. Warm this morning, but the rain began about noon, and the temperature began to drop. Tonight, it is a chilly, damp 55 outside. I turned on the heat and cozied up the cottage.

Jordan and Christian have dinner guests—people I’m fond of—for enchiladas and trick or treating, but I elected to eat a salad in the cottage. Sort of uncharacteristic because I usually welcome social opportunities, but I’m in a working pattern and have not fixed myself up all day. I doubt Jordan’s suggestion that I put on shoes would be enough. I need a shampoo, make-up, fresh clothes—and I just don’t feel like doing that.

Poor Sophie, she has a hot spot on her back end and persists in getting under the wooden coffee table, where she scratches against it lower portion. It’s grotesque looking, and I know it only aggravates the problem. I give her Benadryl twice a day, which the vet says is fine if it controls the itching. I’m about to up it to three times but will ask permission first.

Sophie was never afraid of storms as a pup, but oh my! She does not like thunder now. Seems to think the bedroom is the safest place, perhaps because it doesn’t have all the windows that other parts of the house do. First clap of thunder, and she makes a beeline for her dark, cozy safe place.

Proud of myself on two counts today: my printer jammed, which was all my fault because I left something across the output tray, which caused the paper to back up and jam. I thought I was stymied, but I managed to fish all the crumpled paper out. Taking out the cartridge scared me, and getting it seated right again was a challenge. But I did it.

I am much prouder of my second brag. I reached out to a Trump supporter today, a woman who worked at the university when I did. I’d been responding to her emails, politely but disagreeing. I tried to explain why I didn’t think that we were in danger from an immigrant caravan and, no, they were not terrorists from middle eastern countries. She responded that one man said he wanted to come back to the States to fight a murder conviction, and I said of course in 5,000 people there were some shady characters, but our immigration laws are meant to deal with that.

A friend of hers sandbagged me, in a totally off-topic rant about lyin’ Hilary and what Democrats have done to social security since FDR (I wish she’d explained that one) and telling me to learn the facts and then apologize. I wrote back saying I didn’t have conversations with people who repeat trump-rally rhetoric, and she owed me a apology.

But I thought the first woman had been reasonable, and I enjoyed being able to express myself without antagonism. So I reached out and asked where she worked at the university. Turns out we shared some professors and were both there a long time—and decided yes, we could become friends. Now it occurs to me I should reach out to a couple of other people who have dropped from my life (mostly my fault) over politics. I like conversation—but not diatribes. Still I feel what I did today is one teensy tiny step toward healing the divisiveness in our country.

And so, my friends, on the rainy Halloween, stay dry, be kind to trick or treaters, and treasure the good and kind people in your life.

Pumpkins, barbecue—it must be fall

Tonight was the annual pumpkin carving on the Burton front porch. Ideally, the idea is that everyone eats pizza and some appetizers—broccoli and cheese bites, hummus, cheese, sausage—and then the kids carve the pumpkins, while the adults sit around, drink wine, and visit. That’s not exactly how it worked out.

Jacob had the first finished pumpkin, and it was great. But he had drawn teeth into it. My explanation of how to carve the teeth didn’t work. After he had created a toothless mouth, he said, “Oh! Now I get it!”

With the younger girls—and one boy—there were lots of squeamish faces about cleaning out the insides of the pumpkins, though Jordan had gotten a marvelous scooping tool.

And you know who ended up doing most of the work. The moms.

The evening turned cool, and I didn’t last long on the porch, but it was fun.

A random email from someone named Jack Thompson asked me to mention his web site, BroBBQ. I looked at it and found a really helpful interactive diagram of a beef cow—hover over any one section and it tells you all about the cuts from that part of the animal, how they are cooked, etc. Then there is a page of recipes for various meats—beef, chicken, ribs, etc. I haven’t figured out what the site sells or how they make any money, but it’s worth a look.

Thompson says he is dedicated to all things BBQ and was once told: “Whatever you do in life, do it slow and steady like when you barbecue your beef cuts, because the best BBQ is slow cooked.” 

Check it out at http://brobbq.com.

The geese are getting fat

Halloween’s gone, but the memories linger. Here are two pictures from last night that tickled me.

But it’s time to think about turkeys, unless your family does something innovative like prime rib or enchiladas. My family is strictly traditional—they want turkey, mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, lots of gravy, don’t care so much for the pies. This is the Thanksgiving that the kids go to their “other” families (we’ll all be together at Christmas), but I am fortunate that I’ll probably spend the holiday with Colin and his family, here or there.

I didn’t post last night because unexpectedly Colin came to spend the night. He’s been working in Addison and had to be in Tyler this morning. That child keeps weird hours—stayed up late for him (10:00) and was up at 5:00, out the door at 6:30. Last night, we visited on the front porch with the trick-or-treat people for a while and then went to the Old Neighborhood Grill where Colin had what he said was the best dinner he’d had in a long time—chicken fried steak, fried green beans, and broccoli rice casserole. I enjoyed my dinner, but enjoyed the visit more. When you have a large family, as I do, it’s wonderful to have them all together, but it’s also a rare treat to have one-on-one time with just one child. I heard all about his new job, his two great children, and his volunteer work with his church—they’re active in the foster children ministry in the Houston area. Lovely evening. I’m really proud of him, but then, I’m prejudiced.

Today was not such a lovely day. I had a 9:00 a.m. appointment in Arlington with a cornea specialist. I thought she would just take a look at my problem eye and schedule surgery. Nothing so simple. They did the full eye exam, much of which I’d just had two weeks ago but there were some tests I’d never had before. I was there from nine to almost noon. Bless Christian for taking me and staying with me, all with great good cheer. We treated ourselves to decadent hot dogs on the way home.

Long story short, I’m facing a two-stage eye surgery in the near future. Meantime, my vision in my right eye is blurred, and oh my! The halos I see around lights. Driving at night, even as a passenger, is almost painful.

I will be glad to get this over with, though I will probably have to have a second surgery two to three months later. Still, this is the third thing—my hip, the hospital spell with a fib, and now my eyes. That’s it, folks—I’m done with health problems. Some things that bothered me a year ago seem to have resolved themselves, and I hope maybe some of this will. I’m a big believer in thinking positive and am working hard to practice what I preach right now.

Meantime, there’s that turkey to contemplate. And yet, who can think about a huge turkey dinner when it’s going to be 90 tomorrow? So glad there’s no such thing as climate change😊

Halloween has come and gone

Like the buildup to Christmas and other major holidays, the run-up to Halloween is too long and protracted –all those cooking shows and ads and store displays and then, poof! It’s over. At least that’s how I felt about it this year. We anticipated the event with hamburgers and pumpkin carving—about ten of us. And I ended the evening at my desk with two carved pumpkins glowing at me from the deck. I notice tonight that they’re gone—presumably to the front porch.

Yesterday, the day, I was isolated from the festivities, including the approximately 1300 children who came trick or treating. My cottage proved ideal—no one found it to trick or treat except grown girls who came begging a glass of wine. And I was back here in solitary quiet, enjoying it.

I am not usually such a curmudgeon. Usually go to Jay and Susan’s for a bowl of stew and to watch them hand out treats. No kidding—we get about 1300 tricksters on our block. Most are small, sweet, and oh so polite. In the next block over, Medstar brings handicapped children and allows them a rare chance to participate. I’m proud to live in a neighborhood that welcomes so many and such diverse children.

But last night I was not myself. All day I had noticed that I tended to fall asleep over the keyboard—in fact, I had noticed it a few mornings during last week and of course my brain immediately went to brain tumor. When Jordan said to me last night that I looked like I was about to fall asleep, I said that was because that was how I felt. She suggested—being oh so reasonable—that perhaps I was overtired. Since I slept 10.5 hours last night I suspect she was right. I still fell asleep a bit this morning but nothing like yesterday.  Maybe cumulative tired, like six months of it, has caught up with me.

But now it’s over, and I think we can settle down to a few peaceful days—If Jordan doesn’t invite half the world for another function which she has yet to dream up. I am not falling asleep over the keyboard but I am weary tonight.

I did wish at 3 a..m. this morning I’d had my camera at hand. I was in bed, thinking those black three-o’clock-in-the-morning thoughts about things that didn’t really need to be worried about. I decided to go to the restroom to sort of break the cycle, but I forgot to turn on the bedside light. When I came back I could barely make out that there was something large, black, and rumpled in the doorway between the bedroom and kitchen. Sophie never bothers towels, but that was what it looked like. As I inched toward the light, half of mass moved several feet. Sophie had gotten her color caught in the afghan that covers her chair and was doomed to drag the blanket with her wherever she went. She gave me the most pitiful look that said, “Help me, please” I scooted into the kitchen, got scissors and freed her.

It was one of life’s little lessons—don’t fret and stew over things that are not here yet, if ever, but help your dog. Priorities.

Halloween and a delightfully soggy day

An angel and a wolf
Photos by Katherine Smith

Halloween in my neighborhood is amazing. I live in an inner city neighborhood in Fort Worth, Texas, and we get over a thousand trick-or-treaters. The streets are jammed with cars and pedestrians. Special ambulance crews bring disabled children to trick or treat, and I’ve heard that some churches bus students here.

My neighbors, Jay and Susan, have established a tradition of Halloween on their porch. They buy bags and bags of candy, invite a few neighbors, and serve delicious stew—this year ladled over colcannon, an Irish dish of mashed potatoes and cabbage. It was wonderful.

Kids—and adults—start coming about six o’clock, and usually we wrap it up about eight. I came home by 8:30 tonight, and I can still hear and see cars, so I’m sitting in my dark house with only the computer light on. In all the throngs of children, I rarely recognize any. Tonight I knew one boy, grandson of friends who were on the porch with us. Ours is a neighborhood focused on children, and I don’t know where and how the kids I know spend the evening—but the kids who come are from other neighborhoods.

The children are the wonderful thing about the evening—their expressions range from pure joy to cautious, but uniformly they are polite, take what is given them without grabbing for more, and say thank you. Parents are equally polite and grateful. Susan’s father and I are the senior citizens, so we are absolved from sitting on the step and giving out candy but everyone else takes a turn.

Otherwise, the day was pleasant—I began moving into the bathroom, moved everything out of the small bathroom and realized too late there is not yet a mirror in the new one for putting on makeup. Still it was good to get a start on the process. My brother and sister-in-law came about 1:30 so he could give me an osteopathic soft tissue treatment. He sure knows how to find the spots in spasm and release them—it hurts while he does it, but I am much better afterward. And I walk more confidently. Coming to treat me involves taking most of his day because he lives an hour and a half away—yes, I’m grateful beyond words. After they left, I had a bit of wine and a good long nap. Perfect way to spend a soggy day, although the rain was long gone in time for trick-or-treaters tonight.

Tomorrow is All Saints Day, the time we remember loved ones who have passed on. If you study the Mexican tradition of El Dia de los Muertos, you realize ours is a corrupted and watered down version of a rich tradition meant to honor the dead.

A treasury (?) of trivia

Where did October go? I can’t believe tomorrow is Halloween and the time changes and we are about to be plunged into winter. Seems I was just dreading summer. As I write thunder is rolling around in the sky, and the TV tells me we are due another round of storms. I woke this morning to a great crash of thunder and the immediate question, “How do I get Jacob to school?” When he was up and coherent (takes a while) I said I’d call his parents and ask one of them to bring his poncho.

“I don’t need it.”

“It’s pouring down rain.”

Scornfully, “Who wears a poncho to school?”

I guess only nerds who don’t want to get wet. A neighbor grabbed him from the porch on her way with her boys—and commodious umbrellas—and he apparently survived nicely. Though he blames me for the fact that he can’t get wifi on his iPad at my house. It does little good to point out that my computer and iPad get it just fine. He’s sure it’s all my fault.

Sophie went to the salon today—well, the salon came to her. But she looks adorable with her new “do.” (See above.) I will say that the young woman who drove that mobile grooming station hitched to I don’t know what was talented—she backed it up perfectly into my skinny 1920s driveway. I know grown men who can’t drive up that driveway, and lots of friends can’t drive down. I bless one who said since it made it so much easier for me, she made a point of learning.

At one point, I had the substitute cleaning lady (sent by the woman who usually cleans), the groomer in the driveway, and a crew from the tile company who came to install a small shelf in the new bathroom. I only wanted them all to go away so I could take a shower—finally got a shower at three-thirty.

Lesson learned: I have to eat something in the morning. This morning my honey-sweetened green tea was so good and took the edge off any hunger. I thought I wasn’t hungry, wasn’t shaky, would eat an early lunch. By the time I fixed my lunch—cottage cheese and veggies—I was so shaky the lady who was cleaning heard the dishes clattering, came and insisted on carrying my plate to my desk. With a bit of food in me, I was much better. It’s a lesson I keep learning over and over again.

Worried a bit about my Austin family with storms and flooding, though my daughter assures me they’re all safe. Boys were under tornado alert all day at school, and the pictures coming out of Central Texas are pretty horrifying. Our rain hasn’t been anything like that!

It’s been a clear-my-desk kind of week, and I have it almost cleared. Today I read—finished one novel, started Susan Elia McNeal’s Mrs. Roosevelt’s Confidante. Nothing like rainy-day reading, but I know I’ll want a project soon. Ideas flickering around in the back of my mind.

Halloween is not my favorite holiday, though I remember enjoying it as a kid. Today, I was a bit annoyed by the cast from TODAY in their silly costumes. Jacob had a costume parade and went as—Jacob. No costume. But for all of you who celebrate, happy days. I hope it doesn’t rain on your parade.

A new appreciation of Halloween

I've never been excited about Halloween. I don't decorate my house or yard, and I haven't worn a costume probably since I was twelve or thereabouts. Sure, when my kids were little we went door to door, and when they were older they concocted elaborate horror houses at the front door to scare trick-or-treaters. But to my mind the whole thing has been blown out of proportion.
I suppose living alone for many years has added to my feeling. Once I had an empty nest, I dreaded giving out treats, especially when rather large teenagers came to my door. Finally I just turned off all the lights and worked at my computer in the dark, ignoring the whole thing.
But for the last few years, I have been taking candy and going next door to co-host the trick-or-treating. Usually Jay is home and he and Susan alternate giving out treats but tonight he wasn't home, and I helped give out candy. While I ate the delicious beef stew that Susan always makes, she manned the candy table. Then we switched so she could eat.
We live in one of those inner-city neighborhoods where children are brought in carloads from other neighborhoods--a nice, safe neighborhood with abundant candy. Susan, her father, and I estimate we gave had 500 children (including some adults and some who came back for a second go-round) between 6:00 and 8:15 when we shut it down. Of those, I recognized one family and one other child, a good friend of Jacob's. I used to resent that, particularly when grown women took handfuls of candy. But a friend said to me, "Judy, that may be all they've had to eat today." And it occurred to me that they might also be building a stash for when they couldn't buy their children candy. Then again, they might have been just greedy, but why think the worst of people. Susan bypassed that problem tonight by putting two pieces in each bag herself--it worked wonderfully well, except for one child who was too young to know better and one who was too old not to know better. When I said, "Not cool," he turned and gave me a long look. Maybe he isn't used to being corrected.
Almost every child we gave candy to was polite--often if they forgot the "Thank you," there was a parent nearby to remind them. And some of them simply sparkled with excitement, their eyes dancing. You couldn't help but share their enthusiasm and joy. Some were so little they had to be encouraged where to go, what to say--I think Mom and Dad were the ones getting a kick out of trick or treating, and the kids were simply bewildered. But the atmosphere was one of neighborliness, respect, and friendship. I loved it.
Traffic of course is a nightmare, and I did hear of one unpleasant altercation between two drivers who were trying to pass each other with cars parked on either side of our narrow older streets--apparently there was vulgarity and some animosity about who lived in the neighborhood and who didn't. I hate that. It ruined the atmosphere of the evening.
On the other hand, our municipal ambulance service, MedStar, brought two severely handicapped children, each in an ambulance, to trick or treat on the next street over. Such generosity and caring epitomizes our neighborhood...and our city. And I'm proud of it.
So Happy Hallow's Eve everyone!  There is historical and religious significance to this holiday, which may be why I resent the hoopla a bit. Just as many of us feel about Christmas. But after tonight I look forward to next year.
 

The joy of children

Once again I spent Halloween on my neighbors' front porch--I don't like to be home alone giving out candy. Besides, they traditionally make a wonderful stew for supper. I contributed a pumpkin dessert dip that was pretty darn good if I do say so. So we sipped wine, ate well, and watched Jay give out treats to a constant stream of children and not a few adults.
Ours is one of those neighborhoods known for its generosity, so families comes from all over the city to trick or treat. It's a pleasure to watch most of them--the parents are watchful, prompting for that thank you and cautioning, 'Only one piece." The children are polite a few with a quick quip. My recognition of a Minecrafter figure impressed Jay--he had no idea what the kid was supposed to be. We were all impressed with the amount of parental work that had gone into the costumes, like the Minecrafter or the child who was an X-Box or something with a big box over his head topped with sparkling lights and a clear panel for his face. Best line of the evening came from an adult dressed as a banana. When Jay complimented him, he asked, "Did you find me appealing?" Sent us into giggles. Maybe the best adult costume was the woman who wore a sign around her neck--clearly an enlargement of the Heinz Mustard label--and a homemade headdress that looked like the squirt end of a mustard bottle.
The little children are amazing--some so determined they walk right up, others so shy they hang back. Many infants in mom's arms--clearly they wouldn't, or shouldn't, get any of those treats. One tiny tyke kept wandering off into the garden and had to be physically returned to the walk. A middle school girl, asked what she was dressed as, replied, "A nerd."
By 8:15 we were out of candy. Jay figured he and Susan and given out $200 worth of candy (I contributed about $25 to that total). Susan's dad and I, being the old folks, sat back and let the two of them do the work. But it was fun. At nine, the streets are still crowded, and Sophie is barking her head off about all those intruders. She's sure we're under attack. I haven't turned the porch light on yet, but do have some inside lights on. Poor Sophie--I meant to crate her and put her outside a bit before I was going to go, but then Susan came to see where I was and I left Sophie out--indeed, forgot her. She survived nicely, though I do worry about pets on Halloween. I've never heard of any malicious mischief in this neighborhood.
It was a nice relief to a tense day. My cell phone barely rings, and if I were to call you, you could barely hear me. It's either repair or upgrade, and since I'm eligible I decided to upgrade. Spent at least two and a half hours on the Web and then the phone with AT&T. Their web site kept giving me incomprehensible messages--200 MB version wasn't available. So what? I was requesting 300 MB! Three techs tried to get me through it, then transferred me to the phone where I learned, belatedly, that Apple has not released that many iPhone 5s to AT&T and the local store could only provide me with 64 GB--I don't need that much and don't need to pay $200 more for it. Finally ordered it through Apple, which was less complicated but still a lengthy process. I can pick it up tomorrow, but apparently tomorrow is a launch day for an iPad upgrade and the store will be a madhouse. Hate this kind of frustration.

How far does your Chrismtas spirit go?

We've had a lovely, family Christmas with all the trimmings--"out" presents and stockings for excited kids,and thoughtful stocking gifts for adults, a lazy big breakfast, and then an attack on the mountain of gifts undere the tree. Seven-year-old Morgan told me tonight it's the best Christmas she's ever had. Dinner was early--turkey, dressing, mashed potatoes, a new version of green bean cassereole--nobody wanted apple pie. Now, at eight, it feels like midnight and the house is quiet.
I kow there are many who did not share these blessings of Christmas, many for whom this day was just like to many others or worse--perhaps they were lonely, hungry, cold, frightened. A disturbing incident that happened to my daughter and her family has set me thinking about those less fortunate--and how you know who is real and who is a scammer. It's a cycnical attitude but symptomatic, I fear, of the times in which we live.
They were coming home from midnight services, delayed first by the need to wait while ambulance attendants cared for a woman who fainted toward the end of the service (it's always crowded and it gets hot in there--easy to faint at this season of too much stress and fatigue), then by a wreck. I'm not sure I have the story straight but a tow truck followed them home--perhaps from the wreck?--and into their driveway. A woman got out and asked for money. They had their six-year-old with them and reacted as any parents would I think--with fright and concern for the child, and for themselves. They closed the electric gate and the garage doors, bolted all the doors and turned on the alarm system (what a world we live in!). Sorry to say I think I would have called the police--my neighborhood association has trained me well that it's better to be suspicious than a victim (again, what a world!).
But for some reason, hearing this tale today, I thought of Halloween and the trick-or-treaters who came to my front porch. I was touched and delighted by the mothers who said to children who grabbed, "No, no, only one piece." And I was slightly outraged by the mothers--and a couple of grandmothers--who grabbed handfuls for themselves. Until someone said to me, "Judy, perhaps that is all they had to eat that day" and anger turned to curiosity, open to the possibility that compassion was called for.
I live across the street from an elementary school and occasionally harried parents block my driveay. It's rude and inconsiderate, and it makes me angry. I expressed that to the crossing guard one day when I went to pick up Jacob and he said, "She's handicapped. I told her it was okay. Told her you don't ever go anywhere this time of day." Of course I don't--I'm doing first-grade homework. I felt humble--and a bit humiliated.
So how do you know, especially with all the horrific tragedies of the last few weeks, when the need is real and compassion is the answer and when caution is the prudent expedient. Remember when the initials WWJD were popular--what would Jesus do? What would he have said to the woman in the tow truck? I'm afraid I'd have reacted just as my kids did and probably also called the police...and then I'd have spent a sleepless night worrying about whether or not I had done the right thing. Maybe she had hungry kids at home or she wanted money to buy at least one small Christmas surprise. We'll never know.

Throngs of witches and vampires....

 Granddaughter Eden with her loot tonight

Jacob, otherwise known as Michael Jackson, all ready for a party

 

 

and goblins, ghosts, Raggedy Annes, Cinderellas, and some scary and really original costumes--one young man (not a kid) had on a green morphsuit (head to toe, covering his face though he said he could see and breathe); another was, I think, a marshmallow--huge. I told him he had a weight problem and should not eat the candy. Actually I glimpsed a skinny kid under the costume.
I live in one of those neighborhoods where families come from far parts of the city by the carload to trick or treat. Our streets are full of bumper to bumper traffic; the parking would make you think there was a carnival at the school; a neighbor one street over told me she spent over $60 on candy and last year they gave out 1300 pieces. The people crowding the streets are incredible, and they came up my walk in a steady stream.
Usually I turn out my lights and go next door but this year Jay is out of town and Susan was unsure what she wanted to do, so I suggested my porch with vegetable soup (from thefreezer) for supper. Elizabeth joined us, though she got cranky--her word, not mine--and tired before it was all over. She was appalled at the number of people and how few were from our neighborhood. One new neighbor from down the street introduced herself, and Elizabeth recognized another girl who lives down the block. But that was it.
Mostly these imported kids are polite--their parents are with them and both parent and child say thank you, wish us a happy halloween, and so on. It does stretch my imagination to come up with a new commennt for every costume, but I try. I am concerned about the tiny infants who are trick-or-treating--really?--and I resent the obvious adults. To me, this is a kids' holiday, and adults don't need to be begging for candy. I tried to adjust my attitude this year, but the occasional greedy kid who grabs a handful instead of settling for the one piece we hand out bothers me. At least two parents reprimanded their children and made them put the handful back, and when we said to one boy "We've seen you before"--he had a distinctive treat bag with a skeleton hand on it--he quickly tried to return the candy but we told him to keep it.
All in all, it's fun to see the cute kids but it's sure not my favorite holiday and by the time we ran out of candy, about 8:15, I was done. Susan went home, I turned out the lights, cleaned the kitchen, and settled at my computer--but I'd left some inside lights on. And would you believe some kids knocked on the door. Now that's nerve!
I tell myself these kids come from neighborhoods where people don't offer treats--of course they don't! They're all over here. But I try to be charitable, Still, what happened to the good old days when your neighbors used trick-or-treating as an occasion to visit?