About a month ago, a waitress asked Camilla, after taking her lunch order, “What are you going to be for Halloween?”
“A cat, same as last year. I already have a costume.”
I love the way this girl thinks.
I mean, Whew! No new sewing projects to add to my queue (I’m already sweating one whose deadline is still 13 months away). No arguments in Walgreens over plastic Snow White dresses or sexy hamburgers. I was a little sorry the waitress didn’t have many choices of response to “same as last year” other than perhaps, “How very resourceful of you!” I think she just followed up by asking if Camilla wanted broccoli in her mac and cheese. She didn’t.
In the end Camilla wore the same basic outfit as last year’s cat costume–a black turtleneck and leggings–but switched out the stuffed trouser sock tail and headband with taped-on ears for a cardboard witch hat. No makeup, no jewelry or other witch bling. No muss, no fuss. Did I mention I like this girl?
My son got out a faded hand-me-down shirt that happens to have a number on the front of it, and announced that it was his race number. “I’m a runner,” he said.
“How about a baseball player,” I asked (the raglan sleeves suggest baseball more so than running?). I threw in my Washington Nationals cap as part of the deal.
And they were off to Trick-or-Treat with their dad, leaving me in the company of one interior decoration–a diminutive owl made out of a toilet paper roll–and a pile of dishes. Which I was still staring down an hour later because trick-or-treaters kept ringing the dang doorbell.
Other than candy, I’m afraid the trick-or-treaters weren’t treated to much of anything at our house. No fog machine, no scary music. The kids had carved pumpkins 11 days too early and the carcasses would have been smelly and bug-eaten beyond recognition had we left them out on the porch. So, rather than carve another pumpkin, we just set out Camilla’s painted paper sack jack-o’-lantern that she made in kindergarten 3 years ago.
Robin also made this note and attached it to the siding, to greet the company. It says Happy Halloween.
At the last minute before heading out, Camilla decided to carry a full-size wooden broom, and Robin took his baseball mitt. Unable to properly open their plastic treat bags for the neighbors without awkwardly shifting their props around, they decided to come back after about 25 minutes. Just in time to watch It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown.
So, to sum up our half-a$$ed holiday: we couldn’t be bothered to decorate, we said ho-hum to costumes, we let our pumpkins rot before Halloween, and instead of working the neighborhood and meeting new neighbors we crashed in front of the TV.
But gosh darn it, we did serve vegetables.
Blood clots (pomegranate seeds)
Roasted brains (cauliflower)
STIR (Some Things in Rice)