I am so queasy. I did really well at work and only had half of a Butterfinger from the Customer Appreciation stash. But when I got home the abdomenal onslaught began. I had a Frito chili pie. This is a long-standing Fiacre family tradition which goes way back as far as I can remember - FCPs on Halloween night before you go trick-or-treating. I am constantly dumbstruck by the number of people who don't know what Frito Chili Pie is, by the way, including Southwesterners like my wife and my neighbor. It is not made out of Wolf or Hormel or any other canned chili. You have to make the chili yourself. That canned stuff is gross. It is also not made in a pyrex dish in layers. It's simple. You make chili, you get a little bag of Fritos - you could use a Big Grab bag, but I wouldn't advise it - smash them up, pour a couple of scoops of chili in the bag, throw in onions and cheese, stir it up and dine exquisitely. These are especially good at high school football games when your hands are freezing and the warm chili bag keeps them warm. OK, so I had a FCP. Then a regular serving of chili in a bowl. Then a pack of Smarties from our giveaway candy.
By now Killer and I have hit the road t-o-t'ing. She's a unique version of Cleopatra. A blue dress with gold rickrack, and eyes decorated in the classic Egyptian way. But she's got much yellower hair and eyeglasses which I never saw on Cleo. But it worked for her and it didn't cost anything, so that works for me. Anyway, I had an Island Orange Mounds bar from her bag. I don't know why I ate this. I mean I like dark chocolate and orange, but why I ate this piratey looking thing with coconut, I do not know. I didn't detect any orange flavoring at all. OK, then a little pack of Skittles. After making a run around our block, we had to come back so that SGK could get a drink and we consolidated her booty. At this point YHWH handed me a tankard of hot cider spiked with a generous portion of Napoleon brandy to cut the chill of the night air. Then I took SGK and our neighbor out for another raid and upon our return we found our old neighbors had decided to drop in on us from all the way out in Edmond. They missed sharing our annual Fiacre family tradition Frito Chili Pies. So I had a Shiner Bock beer they brought along with them. Then I had an Oh Henry bar, a dark choclate KitKat, and a Twix - all tiny-size, mind you. Then I had two small bite size dark choclates to cap it all off.
I had to eat those last two things because they were the last of the good candy left and I felt like I had to horde. It was my own fault, really, because I sat each of the four kids in the living room floor and taught them how to bargain for candy they wanted from each other's stashes. That was always my favorite part of Halloween. So I got the kids started on that and then went into the kitchen with the adults (they let me hang with them) and when I peeked in on them a little while later, I saw that SGK had bargained away all of her chocolate for -- taffy. I have failed somewhere along the way. And what the hell are people doing giving out taffy at Halloween in the first place?
I'm going to pay for all this in the morning I fear.
Showing posts with label Halloween. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Halloween. Show all posts
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
Candy-O, I Need You
Ugh, I hate Halloween at the library. Unfortunately, it coincides with Customer Appreciation Month and a tradition has evolved here which involves leaving bowls of candy at all public service points. I will avoid rumination on the use of the word customer in a library context as I do value my livelihood, but many people (both customer and employee) are often confused about what exactly we appreciate in October. A brightsider might say that we appreciate the tax revenue tossed our way, and we certainly do, but the jaded would counter that the people who use our particular agency don't appear to be contributors to our millage coffers. Then there's the realist who would say that we appreciate your coming in for free internet and candy so that we can have jobs.
But that's all beside the point. The reason I hate Halloween at the library is the agonizing drip, drip, Chinese water totrture of giving out that stupid candy. Budding anthropologists need to come out and study this annual ritual. Normally, there's a mass of about 30 people waiting to get in when we open. The first bowl does not survive this initial ravishing by the sweet-starved locusts. And once it's refilled, the fun begins. Some people come by and grab as much as they can in one dip, supermarket spree-style. Others mill around the desk making small talk or proposing fake queries and for them I kindly turn away under the pretext of getting something out a drawer or dropping a pencil so that they can snatch a nugget of nougat without having to interact with me on the subject. Then there is The Addict, of whom there are many in residence, who cannot stop themselves once they have taken that first chomp on a Butterfinger. They take one and practically inhale it as they walk away. Seconds later, they are back, hands shaking as they try and hurriedly unwrap it. This goes on for several minutes or until we say, "Take a couple - for the road," and they move on. Then there are those, usually women, who very politley ask may they have one piece. And then may they have one for their husband? Son? Daughter? Niece from out of town? Invalid neighbor? I want to scream, "Just take the whole g-d bowl and have done with it!"
I'm not without pity. I know that most of these people live on wholesome, but tasteless, shelter food and what money they panhandle goes to meth and Jack. But it's really sad to watch these base human behaviors - like children - acted out over what I consider to be a trifle. Perspectivizing, I realize that many of them probably never were children or at least had a childhood approaching anything near that of my children. More than being broke, they are what my mom used to call "poor of spirit". I wish I knew how fix that. I really do.
But that's all beside the point. The reason I hate Halloween at the library is the agonizing drip, drip, Chinese water totrture of giving out that stupid candy. Budding anthropologists need to come out and study this annual ritual. Normally, there's a mass of about 30 people waiting to get in when we open. The first bowl does not survive this initial ravishing by the sweet-starved locusts. And once it's refilled, the fun begins. Some people come by and grab as much as they can in one dip, supermarket spree-style. Others mill around the desk making small talk or proposing fake queries and for them I kindly turn away under the pretext of getting something out a drawer or dropping a pencil so that they can snatch a nugget of nougat without having to interact with me on the subject. Then there is The Addict, of whom there are many in residence, who cannot stop themselves once they have taken that first chomp on a Butterfinger. They take one and practically inhale it as they walk away. Seconds later, they are back, hands shaking as they try and hurriedly unwrap it. This goes on for several minutes or until we say, "Take a couple - for the road," and they move on. Then there are those, usually women, who very politley ask may they have one piece. And then may they have one for their husband? Son? Daughter? Niece from out of town? Invalid neighbor? I want to scream, "Just take the whole g-d bowl and have done with it!"
I'm not without pity. I know that most of these people live on wholesome, but tasteless, shelter food and what money they panhandle goes to meth and Jack. But it's really sad to watch these base human behaviors - like children - acted out over what I consider to be a trifle. Perspectivizing, I realize that many of them probably never were children or at least had a childhood approaching anything near that of my children. More than being broke, they are what my mom used to call "poor of spirit". I wish I knew how fix that. I really do.
Sunday, October 15, 2006
They Make No Mention of the Beauty of Decay
The wedding continues to dominate our lives for better or worse. We were scheduled to have an all day shopping junket on Sairdy. YHWH, Killer and C. F. Kats are all required to have small, black, formal clutches; I needed a jacket in which I can stroll around the hotel; everyone needed all-weather formal coats; I needed two dress shirts; and it was suggested I get a sweater and some 'nice' long-sleeved shirts.
So, like I said, it was supposed to be an all day affair. But on Sairdy morning, YHWH tells me to just get Killer out of the house all day - she wanted to clean the house. That's bad. That is an ominous sign. Cleaning has psychological implications. Where I have resigned myself to my fate and am now given to mocking the whole thing, she has obviously not gotten to that point.
So, I took Killer to the Zoo. We were there 4.5 hours. I have never been to the Zoo that long in one session in my life. It was great weather and Killer brought a blank journal and declared herself a naturalist. We had to stop and draw loads of plants, flowers, and animals. We read and discussed every plaque. Here's a page from the journal including some of our team work:
After that we decided to hit the northside thrift stores. I thought it would be a nice touch to wear thirft store merch to our snooty events. We didn't have too much success, but we had a lot of fun. We did find one small velvet clutch for 98 cents, though. Finally, we went to Big Lots to get some decent Halloween dex. YHWH tends to decorate with Fall things, but frankly SGK and I never found a cornucopia to be particularly terrifying. I find the glow-in-the-dark velvet skeleton hanging on the doorways of my youth (pre-cult, of course) to be the standard. So Killer picked out some stuff and here are a couple of examples of the result:
The strung-up skeleton has been dubbed Carl by Killer. He actually is very scary out there, especially when a slight breeze makes him sway a little bit.
No word when we'll actually get around to buying all that stuff...
We've also started our Halloween season movie-watching. C. F. Kats prefers the psychological thrillers to slashers, so we have selected accoridngly. We got our film critic friend with the exhaustive DVD library to hook us up with some good ones:
Experiment in Terror
Tale of Two Sisters
Cape Fear (original)
Black Sunday
Planet of the Vampires
Peeping Tom
Carnival of Souls
M
Cat People
Lady in White
Diabolique (original French one)
Cape Fear is still so creepy, among the few that consistently get to me. Talking about the Mitchum-Peck version, of course. One of the key components of it's success of course is in what it doesn't say or depict. They use semantics to lead you to a certain point and then allow you to define (ala 1984) what your own brand of hell might be.
So, like I said, it was supposed to be an all day affair. But on Sairdy morning, YHWH tells me to just get Killer out of the house all day - she wanted to clean the house. That's bad. That is an ominous sign. Cleaning has psychological implications. Where I have resigned myself to my fate and am now given to mocking the whole thing, she has obviously not gotten to that point.
So, I took Killer to the Zoo. We were there 4.5 hours. I have never been to the Zoo that long in one session in my life. It was great weather and Killer brought a blank journal and declared herself a naturalist. We had to stop and draw loads of plants, flowers, and animals. We read and discussed every plaque. Here's a page from the journal including some of our team work:
After that we decided to hit the northside thrift stores. I thought it would be a nice touch to wear thirft store merch to our snooty events. We didn't have too much success, but we had a lot of fun. We did find one small velvet clutch for 98 cents, though. Finally, we went to Big Lots to get some decent Halloween dex. YHWH tends to decorate with Fall things, but frankly SGK and I never found a cornucopia to be particularly terrifying. I find the glow-in-the-dark velvet skeleton hanging on the doorways of my youth (pre-cult, of course) to be the standard. So Killer picked out some stuff and here are a couple of examples of the result:
The strung-up skeleton has been dubbed Carl by Killer. He actually is very scary out there, especially when a slight breeze makes him sway a little bit.
No word when we'll actually get around to buying all that stuff...
We've also started our Halloween season movie-watching. C. F. Kats prefers the psychological thrillers to slashers, so we have selected accoridngly. We got our film critic friend with the exhaustive DVD library to hook us up with some good ones:
Experiment in Terror
Tale of Two Sisters
Cape Fear (original)
Black Sunday
Planet of the Vampires
Peeping Tom
Carnival of Souls
M
Cat People
Lady in White
Diabolique (original French one)
Cape Fear is still so creepy, among the few that consistently get to me. Talking about the Mitchum-Peck version, of course. One of the key components of it's success of course is in what it doesn't say or depict. They use semantics to lead you to a certain point and then allow you to define (ala 1984) what your own brand of hell might be.
Friday, September 22, 2006
The Blair Warner Project
OK, I found out you can go to Halloween Express on Friday night and see the same people you can see at the Fair -- for free! Yeah, we went in to see about getting Super Giant Killer a costyoom (she's thinking Cleopatra). Even though the stuff in the store is sold at horrifying prices, I wanted to stick around and witness the scary people that come in there. You think I'm talking about Goth kids or something, but I'm not. I'm pretty sure they drove over after they ran out of money on the Midway.
There was one woman in there looking intently at a row of costumes in the adult section (and I don't mean size-wise) who looked to be over 50 and about 5'2" and wore spandex pants in a blue the color of the old Crayola cornflower crayon and shoes kind of like this. The shirt was unremarkable, but she had on a really, really bad black wig that increased her mass by about 68%. And people, I got the distinct impression that this was not a temporary status, that she was not just trying on a costume and had stepped out of the dressing room for another size. When she moved on I went over to see what she had been perusing and they were these slutty French maid, stewardess, and Catholic school girl costumes. Then I see this lanky guy slathered in average-looking tattoos saunter up and spank her cornflower butt and off they go. Awwwww...
Then there was this bra-busting mother-of-at-least-two squawking at her kids about some $3.00 plastic swords while she was trying to find an M&M costume in her size - to no avail. Another treat was the entrance to the dressing room - and I wouldn't ponder that image too long - the sentinel placed there looked to be passed out. I'm not sure if it was due to exhaustion or long-term exposure to latex. I gave her the benefit of the doubt and concocted a story in my mind that she was probably a single mom who was working three jobs and by Friday night it had simply caught up to her. See, I really am compassionate and empathic.
Here's what we did when we got home:
SGK decided we would make our own almanac by writing down everything we know - but it had to be 'natural'. Unfortunately, bedtime arrived before the tome was complete. The aspen trees phrase was supposed to be included on line 2. Line 3 says 'to a CR a person is 2 inches tall'; a CR is California Redwood. Line 6 is 'Nuuk, Greenland has a subpolar climate' - I have no idea where she got that one.
I want to know why none of the female bloggers I link to has submitted a report on the Lisa Whelchel Womens' Conference which took place last weekend at a First Baptist church in a nearby bedroom community. I know it wasn't because none of you went. We're talking Lisa Whelchel, y'all. You know, Blair from Facts of Life? There could be no more inspiring conferee than she. She scrapbooks; she homeschools; she does conferences for women; she smiles alot; there can be no better guidepost for you gals. In fact, I think she was on the cover of Guideposts back in the early 90s. Oh well, I guess you'll have to catch her next week at the MomTime Get-A-Way in Monroe, Michigan. Or if God has blessed you with the riches you deserve (or healthy residuals from Nick at Nite), you could hire her as a Personal Mom Coach or you could go on the Premier Christian Cruises Music Boat with her. In the meantime the aforementioned church will be hosting Team Impact (and yes, you do have to watch the video). After that, be sure you go see Jesus Camp!! See you there.
There was one woman in there looking intently at a row of costumes in the adult section (and I don't mean size-wise) who looked to be over 50 and about 5'2" and wore spandex pants in a blue the color of the old Crayola cornflower crayon and shoes kind of like this. The shirt was unremarkable, but she had on a really, really bad black wig that increased her mass by about 68%. And people, I got the distinct impression that this was not a temporary status, that she was not just trying on a costume and had stepped out of the dressing room for another size. When she moved on I went over to see what she had been perusing and they were these slutty French maid, stewardess, and Catholic school girl costumes. Then I see this lanky guy slathered in average-looking tattoos saunter up and spank her cornflower butt and off they go. Awwwww...
Then there was this bra-busting mother-of-at-least-two squawking at her kids about some $3.00 plastic swords while she was trying to find an M&M costume in her size - to no avail. Another treat was the entrance to the dressing room - and I wouldn't ponder that image too long - the sentinel placed there looked to be passed out. I'm not sure if it was due to exhaustion or long-term exposure to latex. I gave her the benefit of the doubt and concocted a story in my mind that she was probably a single mom who was working three jobs and by Friday night it had simply caught up to her. See, I really am compassionate and empathic.
Here's what we did when we got home:
SGK decided we would make our own almanac by writing down everything we know - but it had to be 'natural'. Unfortunately, bedtime arrived before the tome was complete. The aspen trees phrase was supposed to be included on line 2. Line 3 says 'to a CR a person is 2 inches tall'; a CR is California Redwood. Line 6 is 'Nuuk, Greenland has a subpolar climate' - I have no idea where she got that one.
I want to know why none of the female bloggers I link to has submitted a report on the Lisa Whelchel Womens' Conference which took place last weekend at a First Baptist church in a nearby bedroom community. I know it wasn't because none of you went. We're talking Lisa Whelchel, y'all. You know, Blair from Facts of Life? There could be no more inspiring conferee than she. She scrapbooks; she homeschools; she does conferences for women; she smiles alot; there can be no better guidepost for you gals. In fact, I think she was on the cover of Guideposts back in the early 90s. Oh well, I guess you'll have to catch her next week at the MomTime Get-A-Way in Monroe, Michigan. Or if God has blessed you with the riches you deserve (or healthy residuals from Nick at Nite), you could hire her as a Personal Mom Coach or you could go on the Premier Christian Cruises Music Boat with her. In the meantime the aforementioned church will be hosting Team Impact (and yes, you do have to watch the video). After that, be sure you go see Jesus Camp!! See you there.
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