October 24, 2008
I’ve been decorating again.
Halloween is definitely my season. And although in my house, it may be impossible to find:
birthday and anniversary dates
I keep the halloween decorations stored in the attic in color coded bins. And this year, I intend to number them in the order they should be packed and unpacked (to save time next year).
Some people do Christmas. I do Halloween.
It started simply, with one or two little things. I saw some vultures, on sale. And at $3 a piece, I couldn’t buy just one. The check out clerk at the Wal-mart said, as she unloaded a cart-full, “I always wondered what people do with these things.”
I said, cheerfully, “I don’t know!” And then I sent my husband to shopping at other Wal-marts, and ended up with matching owls. And a bloody rat, covered with black rabbit fur that was his idea, not mine.
Last year, I was doing some retail therapy, because I was feeling kind of blue. And I got a full sized skeleton, on close out. The fact that a skeleton cheered me right up will give you some kind of an idea the day I was having.
And back when I was just getting out of theater, and still harboring the (stupid and impractical) dream that most costumers have, of a little costume shop all my own, I found a light up Halloween village costume shop.
And the next year, I bought some people to stand in front of it. And some trees. And some other buildings. And a cemetery, and several boats, the Creature from the Black Lagoon, with pirates, and a wharf…
But what I really want, is the pyramid to go with my mummy.
My village has reached the point where, when #1 son goes to college next year, I may have to move all of his stuff to the attic, and turn his bedroom into Halloween town, all year around. I can keep it, just like a train set. But without all the annoying trains.
After I co-opted #2 son into helping with the set up, and he spent a difficult afternoon, trying to get my fake blood stains to stick on the French doors (they tend to roll up and hit the floor with a splat, if you do not press firmly) he said
“I need to get some pictures of all this. I want to show people at school…”
#1 son finished, “…how crazy our mother is?”
#2 son: “Yeah.”
I told them they should consider themselves fortunate I am so up front and easy to read. Most of the crazy that runs in our family does not show up in pictures. They look normal on the outside. And then, as Emeril would say, “Bam!”