Better Half and I spent the evening watching television and handing out candy. When did we turn into our parents?
I keep some traditions from my childhood. Pumpkins should be gored and then mutilated into bread while their seeds toast in a hot oven. The bread came out of a box this year (boo hiss, flavorless) but I had fun with the carving.
We had a good turn-out of costumed candy fiends despite the rain and cold.
Some of the dogs were banished to the kitchen where they were less apt to annoy us with barking; Don't pity them. Both are evil. I don't know how to break them of their barking habit. It is obnoxious and they do it for no reason.
Better Half and Nutmeg manned the door. She was very well-behaved and stood by patiently while Better Half dropped candy into plastic bags and pillow cases. (A trick-or-treater asked Better Half what his costume was. He responded, "a stay at home dad". Fitting, considering he was wearing manky pajama bottoms and an ugly shirt. It would have been better if he said "crazy old veteran" but the kiddies wouldn't understand the joke.)
We ran out of candy and closed up shop at 8 PM. Better Half has promised to mail Mum's package tomorrow (and then cook smelts for me!)
It's 3:30 AM and I'm having a deja vu moment like none other, replete with the War of the Worlds radio broadcast that I listen to every year. I have no idea why the human brain experiences these but I will swear that I lived this moment before, perhaps in the fading tendrils of a departing dream. Meh. It lasted less than a minute but was vivid. Nifty.
Where was I?
Sammy crashed out most of the evening. (I was going in a different direction but the moment unnerved me. Am I asleep? Do I have brain cancer? What causes this ethereal weirdness and is it actually important that it be acknowledged? What if I don't mentally chant "deja vu, deja vu, deja vu" the next time it happens? Will the horrid things that are supposed to follow actually follow? Is the premonition nothing more than an anomaly of memory?)
Truth be told, there are some days where brain farts make better sense than the real world. There are also days where I wish I could pile all the couch pillows over my head and glare at passersby.
(Nobody does the glare as well as Zombie Zephyr.)