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There was good and bad to this year’s Halloween. The bad was that this was the first year in the last decade I have not held a Halloween party. It wasn’t practical this year, which crushed me, but I am focusing on next year’s celebration, hopefully in our first real estate (we’ll see). The other bad was not being around STL friends, but again, little to be done.

The good was having friends here who also love Halloween. Sophie held a pumpkin carving party, and I didn’t do too badly, though my bats & moon did not compare to some of the other guests’ art: everything from the Mario Bros. mushroom to Charlie Brown to the “annual poor taste pumpkin” – the Rodney King beating. I didn’t ask, so no explanation is offered here.

We also had a great time at a very crowded and celebratory party in Denver, where the best costume was undisputed. A salad bar complete with dressing, cherry tomatoes, and the popular croûtons, which, in their bin location on her backside, made it look like guys were grabbing her ass all night, even though they really were just grabbing croûtons. For all her hard work, and frequent, loud offers to “toss your salad”, she won a cruiser bike. Very impressive.

Halloween itself, my brother dropped off a jack-o-lantern (he’s really REALLY good at pumpkin carving) for me. He’s good enough that one can request their own design, so I asked for a picture of Jack Skellington climbing up the curly hill at night. He scoffed at my request, telling me it was too easy. Disappointed, I shrugged and waited for whatever he came up with. The finished pumpkin isn’t just Jack Skellington…it’s Jack and Sally, climbing the hill, which is covered in icicles. After setting up all the jack-o-lanterns, we walked downtown to strut in costume and admire the handiwork of other Halloween lovers. We saw Waldo, Grover, Oscar, Ms. Potatohead, plenty of standard-issue devil girls and pirate boys, the ubiquitous guys-with-dicks-in-a-box, the cast of Wizard of Oz, Dwight Schrute, zombies, and a jockey. And as we walked back, we came across two people in chicken costumes, hand-in-hand, walking home, clucking softly at each other. Sigh. I got my annual fix. What other holiday can provide all that?

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