This Boo Flick, Or That Boo Flick?

Now to choose a Halloween movie. Hmmmm. Hocus Pocus? Practical Magic? The Nightmare Before Christmas? Ghostbusters? Dip my frightened toes into American Horror Story? Decisions, decisions. I do want to sleep well tonight, so nothing too scary. Maybe Bell, Book, and Candle. I like a little romance with my witchery.

Everybody Dance!

Watch the Birdie

When you decorate for the season with black roses, it seems more than appropriate to display a baker's dozen, better known as thirteen, rather than a traditional dozen.

If you look a little closer, you'll see a formally dressed black and orange crow roosting in the roses. Have I said how much I love Halloween today?

Use Your Words

Because we are both so fond of words, my cousin Cory has shared this new one with me:

Cruciverbalist A designer or aficionado of crossword puzzles.

Then his friend Byron shared a related word in the comments:

Rompecabeza Spanish for jigsaw puzzle. Translates to English literally as "break your head".

As a final note, I love that spellcheck doesn't approve of either cruciverbalist or rompecabeza. I'm such a rebel. 

Advice From a Pillow

Tasty Brew

Why does beer taste better when quaffed from an illicitly acquired glass?

Indeed

Critical Thinking!

I apologize for the readability of this graphic. I still find it worthy of posting, it was the clearest version I could locate. Click on it to enlarge, please. If you still can't read it, go here and download a pdf of your very own.

Mom Gifts

Reid went to San Francisco and all I got was a dumb tshirt he brought me boozie presents! I now have pins declaring that I love beer and wine. This is factual information. I haven't opened the beer flavored Jelly Bellies, or is that Jelly Bellys?, because I'm not certain I want to experience a candy that tastes like beer. But I do love the idea, and keeping them preserved in their cute packaging allows me to procrastinate for quite some time. I don't have to decide until June 2019, the best before date stamped on the back. Thanks, Reid, you know what mom likes, even if that makes me look like a bad parent.

Best. Costume. Ever.

Hiding inside of Mr Potatohead is the younger son at approximately the age of seven. Note that he is also holding a Mr Potatohead. I think this is probably the best costume I have ever created. Reid requested it. He brought me a pad of paper and a pencil and asked me to draw Mr Potatohead to make sure I knew what he was talking about. Let me just say that I can't draw for crap. Reid agreed when I handed my best attempt back to him. He shook his head and sadly announced that it wasn't very good at all. Fortunately, I can sew. I did this up out of sweatshirt pieces and felt and no pattern, children. Odd that I can't draw something but am able to create a 3D version of it. This is adorable beyond description. Which is why I took a picture. I just don't have the time or patience for a thousand words today.

Dear Newton

I'm terribly sorry. I'm an awful pet mom. I scolded you in loud and derogatory tones this morning when I discovered that at some point overnight you left a stinky pile on the sofa and a liquid present in my big, comfy chair. I relegated you to the basement with no morning treats. And it's my fault. When the Arm & Hammer cat litter that you prefer changed its formula to a hard-clumping type, I became weary of cleaning those hard clumps from the sifting pan in your litter box. So I looked for a different unscented litter that wouldn't set up like freaking concrete. May I say that finding a clumping litter that isn't infused with Febreze or some such other pleasant to humans scent is difficult. But I did find one and bought a container. Then when I had Reid with me shopping on Thursday, I bought an even bigger one since he was there to do the heavy lifting. I will return the unopened large container which is still sitting in the living room. Reid has either forgotten that it is there or has not mustered up the strength to carry it downstairs. This time, that's a good thing. Again, Newt, I apologize. Switching up your litter was a dumb thing to do. I promise to not do it again. And you, Arm & Hammer cat litter people! Stop messing around with your cat litter formula! It is perfectly fine just the way it is. No more new and improved. No more weird scents. No more super-clumping. Leave it be, it's not broken, so stop fixing it. Fussy felines who dislike change will appreciate it. As will the fussy feline keepers who dislike surprises on the furniture. Thank you, ever so much.

Economics 101

Me, Too

This man, with his wife sitting next to him, in a public place, stuck his hand up the back of my dress and scratched my back, all the while grinning at me. Because we were in public, actually in a quite nice restaurant, I made a joke about it. Because that's what I do. Deflect with humor. Did you lose something? Whatever it was, you're not going to find it there. He slowly withdrew his hand, trailing it along my rear end and legs. I felt sick and degraded the rest of the evening. I had been walking around our table, camera in hand, taking pics of all the couples we were having dinner with. This was not my regular group of friends, I had been invited by someone who was one of the group. And he said to me later that week, yeah, when &*%#@ gets into the wine, he gets a little frisky. Frisky? He sexually assaulted me, I said. I did not ask for it, I did not want it, I was horrified and disgusted. Shame on you for apologizing for his vile behavior. It wasn't the first time I had dealt with this sort of unwelcome behavior in a man, both socially and in the workplace. I've handled the situation better, but it never is easy. This particular incident was only four years ago, and I point that out for one reason. At the ripe old age of 56 I still hesitated to call it what it was in the moment, made a joke for the comfort of others in the room, and went on with the evening. Things won't change until we call out these despicable men for their unacceptable acts. This man sexually assaulted me. It wasn't, and never will be, okay. 

Another Project Done!

I know, the egress window in Reid's room was installed back in April. So he's been living with this mess for six months. Trust me, off camera it really is a mess of boards and nails and other aftermath of the interior destruction that was necessary to get the job done. Either my son is a really good sport or he's an expert at ignoring a mess. Maybe both.

Taking advantage of him being gone for a couple of weeks, I was able to invade his personal space with impunity. The first step was to size up the paneling pieces that were removed and figuring out how to put them back. All the boards under the window needed to be trimmed down to fit, and the two pieces on the sides of the window had to be notched out. 

Those concrete corners required squaring up so out came the hammer and chisel.

This corner was the most difficult! The walls are poured concrete, not block, and there was a rock about the size of a golf ball right smack in the way! Yes, I wore safety goggles.

The upper right corner looked the worst, but that chunk came out in one neat piece after just a couple of taps.

Now the tricky business of notching out the piece on the right side of the window and getting that key piece in just to the left of it. Swearing was involved. The framing around the window was pretty easy to get into place. Construction adhesive and shims are now my very best friends.

Voila! Ready for paint! My first choice was to attempt to stain the wood to match, or sort of match, the paneling. But after experimenting on some scraps it became clear that I was not going to come close. I was working with three different types of wood and none of them were coming up with a similar hue. There is a bit of a mishmash of types and colors of trim in the house, so trying to be consistent is a bit iffy. I went with painting the window surround white, the doors throughout the house are white as is most of the baseboard so I thought it would look okay. I have a feeling I will be wandering around with a can of Valspar white latex enamel and a little brush on a regular basis for a very long time! 

Here we have the finished product! And just in time, Reid gets home tomorrow. 

Three's, Well, Not the Charm

I took my third stab at it today and failed. Do tax forms really make sense to anybody? They make my brain hurt, my vision swim, and my stomach churn. I have been running around in circles trying to get my amended state income tax forms filed since August when they sent me a letter saying that I owe the state over five hundred dollars. I followed their instructions to the letter when I filed a protest but they refused it. I have also waited for ages on hold to speak to someone to clear up this mess twice. I'm beginning to feel a little bit harassed. I'm an old lady with a puny income, so puny that I don't have to pay federal income tax. Next year I will have my online tax service prepare my state form, too, even though it rankles me to have to pay the extra fee to get the numbers in the correct boxes. Guess I'm going to have to make the trip over to Fort Collins next week and visit the Colorado Department of Revenue office for some help. Guess I better take my checkbook, too, just in case. I expect this will be almost as much fun as hanging out at the DMV.

Meanwhile, Over in Miss Brenda's Yard

"This tableau is dedicated to the idea that we are all the same on the inside and everyone should be afforded the right to love who you gonna love and have dem babies."

Today's photo and quote are courtesy of my friend Brenda. She has the biggest heart in the universe and outdoes me by lightyears on the Halloween decorating scale. I lurve* her bunches and wish she would come visit me.

*Miss Brenda influences me linguistically. In addition to her signature way of spelling love, she also has me shouting stop flirting with me! in totally out-of-context circumstances.

A Short Lesson on Birth Control

Triskaidekaphobic?

On this Friday the 13th of the Halloween month, here is a photo of a mostly black kitty from seven years ago. You're welcome.

Dread

It has just occurred to me that it is Thursday the twelfth. Meaning that tomorrow is Friday the thirteenth. Pardon me while I look for my lucky socks. Oh, wait, thirteen is a number that represents feminine power. As Emily Litella would say, ever mind. Also, do I actually have lucky socks?

More Costume Archive

Just look at this demonically fetching couple! I sewed the capes and tails and the rest we just pulled out of the closet. Those are latex headpieces, complete with horns and pointy ears. When cleaning out the costume closet a few years ago I discovered that they had dried out and crumbled to pieces. It was a sad moment, I have not seen such headpieces since. They really did make the costumes.

I seem to be contemplating the end of my pointy tail. These costumes were great fun to wear, we were unrecognizable! I remember shooting pool in a downtown bar with people we knew and they had no idea it was us. I'm pretty sure this was 1986. 

Halloween Costume Archive

The year? 1985. Yes, that's me inside that pumpkin. This was a costume originally created for a coworker's daughter. All I had to do was remove a bit of stuffing in order to fit my much larger body inside. The best part is the hat, which you really don't get a good view of here. There's a little green stem poking up as well as some leaves and some viney sort of things. I must say that this was a most comfortable costume to wear for an evening. And yes, I am wearing bike shorts under the pumpkin. Which made it easy to slip the costume off my shoulders and step out, leaving me properly dressed, and properly sized to fit behind the steering wheel to get to the party. This was back in the days of a company sponsored Halloween shindig, maybe the last of its kind for my soon-to-be-husband's place of employment. Something about liability and alcohol and adults acting like kids. Makes sense. I don't know about you, but wearing a costume makes me feel a bit like misbehaving. 

Witchy Advice

A Meryl Trifecta

It's been a movie week, and somehow it ended up being a mini Meryl Streep film festival. Starting off with Postcards From The Edge last weekend, we moved onto It's Complicated midweek, and finished up with Out Of Africa. From edgy comedy to rom-com to an outstanding take on an outstanding novel. To wind things up in an interesting way, I need a movie recommendation. Does anyone know of a film that counts among its cast one actor from each of these movies that isn't Ms Streep? Or two actors with the director of one of them? Hmmmm. This requires more brain power than I possess at the moment. Leave your suggestions in the comments.  

Time Flies Dept.

A small, smiling blond boy sitting on the bottom step. I love those tiny hiking boots. And the cowlick in his bangs. They grow up so fast.   

The Astonishingly Bad Pun That Occurred To Me While Working on the Trim Around Reid's Bedroom Window

Looks pretty good despite the fact that I'm not a finish carpenter. Finish carpenter. Finnish carpenter! I'm not a Finnish carpenter, I'm a half Norwegian carpenter!

The Anti-Yogurt

I thought it was vanilla yogurt. It's in the same section of the dairy products in a container just like the yogurt I usually buy, but there was no Yoplait. So it seems I grabbed something called cultured dairy blend instead. That sounds more like something you'd smear on a phony baked potato for a photo shoot than something you'd eat. I opened it and stirred it a bit, the consistency was a bit firmer, sort of like ricotta cheese. I tasted it. Not bad. Not terribly sweet. Feeling adventurous, I tossed some into the blending cup with the banana, blueberries, and orange juice that were waiting and blended away. As usual, it was tasty, despite the substitution, and I have suffered no ill effects. I really need to look more closely at what I grab when grocery shopping. 

Seasonal Switch-up

I have been known to express an opinion using this guy.

In the spirit of the Halloween season, I will be using this guy instead.

Goodnight, Dear Marilyn

Pardon the glare and poor composition of this photo, please. Focus* instead on the joy in the moment that is captured here. And where is here? Tombstone, Arizona, children, in some bar in February of 1984. My friend Theresa, in hat with camera to the left, and I had driven down from South Dakota to visit my Mom and sis Martine. I'm in the middle, Mom is behind me, Martine is in front of me. To the right is Mom's friend Marilyn, also visiting from SD. This was the only photo I could find of Marilyn, though I'm sure more exist in my most disorganized photo boxes. She and Mom were very good friends for a number of years. They met as co-workers and remained friends through my mom's many career changes and moves from one place to another. When I lived in Brookings, I always enjoyed bumping into her in a grocery aisle or on the bike trail near her apartment and having a quick catch-up chat. Because Mom seemed to me to be at loose ends in her life, I was grateful to Marilyn who was something of an anchor, a friend who stayed in touch and cared for her in ways the rest of us couldn't manage. Mom wasn't easy to get close to and she cut ties with so many people along the way that it was comforting to know there were those chosen few who made the effort to maintain contact. When Mom died in 2010, it fell to me to make a number of phone calls to share that sad news. One of those calls was to Marilyn, and a most difficult one for me to make. She had been diagnosed with scleroderma a few years before, and its effects on her ability to speak had increasingly made her more homebound and also made it difficult to understand her on the phone. I think that was the last time I talked to her. For some reason, Marilyn popped into my head a couple of days ago and I couldn't shake the feeling that something had happened. The internet informed me by way of her obituary that she had died in August and that per her request there would be no funeral service. She was survived by a couple of nephews and their wives, she had been widowed years before and her parents had also passed. She and her husband, Ralph, whom she always referred to as my Ralph, did not have children. It's sad when you outlive most of your family and friends and there is no one left to mourn you. I do believe it's the connections to others that make life meaningful. Marilyn and my mom were friends, and in honor of that friendship, today I will light a candle to celebrate those years.

*Pardon also, please, my intentional photo-related pun.

The Last Picking

We Can Make It Stop

Once more, on what ought to have been a normal Monday morning, I tuned in to NPR and heard about yet another violent attack on innocent people by a man with an arsenal of military style weapons. The current administration in Washington says this isn't the time to negotiate gun laws, this is the time to pull together as a nation. Well, this sad and angry girl says we can do both at the same time. Sign this petition. Call your reps in our nation's Capital and voice your concern, your anger, your ideas for a solution to prevent this tragedy from happening again. The problem is, hearing the news of a mass shooting in this country has become an almost normal happening. We can make it stop. It's time to take action.

October the First

It's one of those days, chilled from working out in the yard just before rain showers blew in, that I miss the big bathtub in the old house. Which makes me think I should call my plumber and find out if he can find one similar to this at a lower cost. So that next year long about now I can enjoy a steamy soak in fragrant, bubbly water. The tomato thicket has been placed in the compost and the last dozen or so apples of love have been brought in. The basil is still doing so beautifully I potted a few and brought them in to enjoy the sun on the kitchen window sill. The weatherman says it may freeze tonight so I'm thinking the magical surviving poinsettia should be brought into the garage. Reid would be so proud of me for getting the garbage out to the curb. Normally it's his job so I have to say I do miss him just a bit. Lacking the facilities for a hot bath I will settle for a shower, get into some flannel jammies, and enjoy a glass of wine with my Netflix. October has arrived and suddenly it definitely feels like Fall. Time for soup and pie and Halloween preparation!