Bootiful

I love Halloween. Not in the “I think that dead things, gore, blood, and monsters are cool and I want to watch every thriller/slasher/scary movie there is until I puke or kill someone” kind of way. More in the “aren’t those pumpkins/witches/black cats/ghosts cute and wouldn’t they go nicely with my existing collection of Halloween crap that fills 5 plastic tubs” kind of way. Seriously, I have more Halloween decorations than I know what to do with. I have plates and cups, set of 12. I have tablecloths, kitchen towels, and blankets. I have at 30 different pumpkin things, seriously. Now, you need to know that being born in mid-October sort of forced me to either love it or hate it. Then having my first child born on that day just made it that much more special to me. So at our house, it is a pretty big deal. My daughter and I decorate the house the last weekend of September and it all stays up until the Christmas decorations go up after Thanksgiving. We drink apple cider (I use the term “we” loosely as any time I offer it to her I get such horrid gagging noises emitting from her that I panic thinking she is dreadfully sick and send her straight to bed!), we watch Halloween movies – Charlie Brown, Winnie the Pooh, Monster House – while we stuff ourselves on bite sized candy and popcorn. Whoever came up with the whole “bite size” thing anyway? It is such a trap, you think “oh, bite size, I can eat just one…or 20 and they all count as just bites”! Wrong! (said in my Dana Carvey/McLaughlin group voice)

Where was I? Oh yes, Halloween. So, I am a big fan of Stephen King as you may well know. I love reading his books, but am not much into other horror writers, even though Koontz is not bad. However, do not assume that because I love Stephen Kings books that I love scary movies, haunted houses, or being scared in anyway. I despise it. The books I can handle because it is my own mind so I just turn that off when I am sick of it (this happens more than you think…damn mind). But the movies or haunted houses, those images will stick with me forever. The last time I went to a haunted house was on a double date when I was 17 with my boyfriend at the time, Clayton and his friend. All I remember is people coming at me with syringes, chainsaws, and fake blood all over everywhere. I couldn’t get out, people were screaming (people is probably too vague, I was screaming), the people I was with were laughing their asses off. When we finally got outside Clayton got a good look at me and seriously thought I was going to faint…he said I was gray...not white, gray. All I knew is that I never, ever wanted to go to another haunted house again. And movies? No way, no how. The last scary movie that I saw was Signs by M. Night Shamalyan. I know, you are saying “what the fuck, that is not scary you big wuss!” It probably isn’t to you. To me, well let’s just say that I could not walk by the TV with it off for several months and glasses of water on the counter freaked me out. Our oldest was barely 1 at the time, so we had a baby monitor..yeah, you guessed it. D used to go up to her room and make the alien noises in the monitor when I was down in the basement with the receiver. And to top it off, a week after seeing it I had to go to Nebraska for work and my hotel room was near a cornfield. What a blast.

So while everyone else enjoys the spooky side to Halloween, I will instead be happy watching the kids trick or treat, relish the sound of leaves crunch under my feet, spend hours searching for acorns on walks with the girls, and curl up with D by a fire. To me, that is the perfect Halloween.