All Hallow's Eve

If you abhor Hallowe'en, you may continue to do so, with my blessing.  I'm pretty laid-back about the whole thing, but here's an interesting article John shared with me.  (I'd call it "good," but that would give away my proclivity toward free candy, in case you haven't already guessed it.) (p.s. I don't like online debates or discussion; can you tell?)
 
Around these parts, trick or treating involves driving from "neighbor's" house to house, because most neighbors aren't within easy walking distance.  This driving involves stopping the van, unbuckling children, walking to a house, chatting and exchanging pleasantries of all kinds with the people who open the door, some of whom we don't really know and only see once a year but who are utterly delighted to pour forth their fructose-cious bounty upon us, and then a few minutes-- sometimes ten-- later, walking back to the van, buckling up children, and driving to the next house.  It's fun and tedious, all at once, but there are many ways in which I believe hillbilly trick-or-treating is superior to the citified version.

Here are a few irrefutable reasons, because you're dying to know them:

One.  Showing up to houses and having strangers say, "I'm SO GLAD YOU CAME!  We were WAITING FOR YOU!  You're the ONLY TRICK-OR-TREATERS we've had tonight, and I was just wondering to Frank/George/Henry/Robert if you'd come this year or not!" builds up your ego and makes you feel special and important.  It's as if receiving their candy with open hands and buckets is a selfless act of mercy.  We're really doing it for them, you know.

Two.  Because they get so few trick-or-treaters-- sometimes none-- the country folks are impressively generous with their candy portions.  No single Fun Size bar here, no-siree-bob.  On several years, the girls have been given KING-size bars, and most people give either the biggest handful from their bucket one can grab or a large treat bag stuffed to the brim with Fun Size bars.  Now THAT'S fun!

Three.  I don't really have a third, but the first two are enough, don't you think?





It's been a few years since I was dutiful enough to have the children's costumes ready in daylight.  This year was no different, as you can see by the wan quality of these poor snapshots.

We hit the books all day until around 3:30, at which point I panicked and threw the books on the floor in favor of raiding the costume bin and all the closets in the house.  A few raiding parties, scissors, fake fur, one glue gun, face paint leftover from my high school days, and an hour or two later, we were well on our way to hillbilly trick-or-treating.


Millie was Mary Poppins.  She's wearing that odd expression because she said that was what Mary Poppins looked like.  You be the judge.

 

Susannah was a very pleased Galadriel, and, because you can't see them, I'll tell you that sparkles shimmer on those eyelids, oh, yes.

 

I have absolutely no excuse for not having Annika's costume prepared a year ago.  She read Mr. Popper's Penguins right after last Hallowe'en and immediately declared that this year she wanted to be Mr. Popper, coercing as many of her siblings into dressing as penguins as she could. 

She wrangled up three. 

 

One and two:

 

The third was an ornery little coot but worth the keeping.

Upon our return home, the ritual of candy-sorting and trading began.  (I think Millie looks more like Mary Poppins here.)

 

And the following day, the ritual of stealing-your-sister's-candy-and-eating-it-under-the-chair began.

 

Told you he was ornery.