Halloween Haze

Friendly Friend: Hey! You're creative! What are your kids being for Halloween this year?!? I bet it's amazing! Don't you always make their costumes?

Me: Uh, yes. I, uh, usually do. But--

Friendly Friend: Oh yeah! I remember the pictures-- you even make them for your dogs right?

Me: Well, yes, I -- but we only have one dog now--

Friendly Friend: I can't wait to see what you're doing this year! I bet they're amazing and totally original! Didn't you make Pascal last year for your son?  And your daughter was Rapunzel?

Me:  Well the Rapunzel costume she got for Christmas the year before but I did make the Pascal one.

Friendly Friend: Oh! And I remember you making Princess Leia for your little dog. What's his name?

Me: Rizzo. It's a girl. Yeah, those brown buns were fun to make.

Friendly Friend: Well, gotta go, but I can't wait to see what you post this year! Woot!

Awesome.

Cuz this year Mommy went back to work full time and doesn't have time to pump out anything except orders for extra-large teas.  Seriously.

This is the first year both my kids will have store-bought costumes.  I think I'd be more sad about it were it not for the exhaustion.  And the tiny bit of glee that I don't have to be up for 48 hours straight on October 29th sewing my brains out.

It was much more limiting, costume searching, this year. Usually I have them pick a favourite book or movie or idea or whatever, and we figure out how to make that happen using all available methods of adhesion and random bits and bobbles.  Like, this year I was hoping my kids would want to be Minions from Despicable Me, and we could make overalls and yellow foam heads and it would be awesome because then Hubster could be Gru and I could be Vector (or whatever) and have all sorts of fun.

And then I realized that it was October 4th and I'm working full-time and holy schnikes, who has time for crafting meticulous costumes when they work.

It was that thought that made me realize two things: 1) parents who work buy costumes and 2) parents who don't work make 'em.

THEN, suddenly, I fully appreciated Paris Hilton, who up until her TV show, had never made a trip to Walmart, let alone done a load of laundry; she's too rich to know how to do those things. Too rich to know how to do that stuff-- it's for the 'masses' to have to do.

Sigh.

Here's to working and buying homemade costumes from parents who don't work.

Here's to hoping our kids are so fabulously wealthy that they are utterly useless.

Here's to Halloween, my favourite holiday full of unnecessary decorating that stays up for a total of 6 weeks (dependant on which side of October you  put them up or take them down), to make room for Christmas decorating, which stays up for another total of 6 weeks.

Let the merriment begin!

10 Years to Life

10-years later. It was a lot like time-lapse in the movies,
but without the fake sleeping and fast moving alarm clock. 

"Ok everyone, instead of a guest book, we decided to put a time capsule together.  Write your names and your best wishes or guesses as to where we'll be in 10 years, and we'll open it up for our 10th anniversary and see who was closest."

That was the note I left on the table at the entrance to our reception, 10 years ago.  Rather, I assume it was but I have no real recollection of that day except that I cried (a lot) and rode in a carriage (princess-style) to find my best guy at the end of a walk with my parents.

I figured (even then) that we'd never open a book with a bunch of signatures on it -- although if I had thought about it, I would have kept the signatures to use in some bank heist fraud thing, possibly involving magicians and/or Kaiser Soze, but I didn't think that far ahead, I guess.

And yes, I know Photo Shop, even PAINT, existed 10 years ago and that our can looks pretty ghetto by today's standards, but it worked for 2003.

Just outside the frame is a claymation Rudolph The Red Nosed Reindeer, with his friend a California Raisin.

Plus, you're seeing it the way you watch Original Star Wars in 2013 (not the blue-ray enhanced edition).  The Original Star Wars, as seen on VHS copies, is just a bunch of claymation and bullshit. I am a Star Wars Fan; I know stupid amounts of trivia although I have never done any costume stuff for it (I secretly want do but don't really know how).

But as I sat there, basking in the ... pain of the original edits of the '77, '80 and '83 films, I asked myself repeatedly why I thought the movie was even GOOD, let alone amazing.  I had a complete existential breakdown while watching this films every time Yoda latexed his way through a scene. Do or Do Not, there is no Try? Trust me, Yoda baby, your special effects are not very special 25 years later.

It was quite a mountain, no matter how paltry this might look. 

How did I not notice this in the 80's, or when I re-watched everything in the 90's? I guess it's like an old boyfriend; all the signs were there from the beginning, you were too busy making out every 5 seconds to notice them.

Anyway, we had our guests fill out their thoughts for us on little note papers and stick 'em inside for us to read later.

What. A.  Hoot.

Let's just say several of the notes were proof that things get x-rated after a few glasses of wine.

"A Strip Pole would be fun in the bedroom." "Buy a trapeze!" "Order out!"
I think we were being told to get dinner and make a movie, but I could be wrong.

Then there were lots of notes figuring we'd have several kids-- I mean litters worth. I don't know if I was all "I can't wait to get on the baby train!" at the reception or something, but seriously, there were at least a dozen that suggested we'd have 7, 8, 9 kids.

Oy.

Then there were a bunch that were very sweet, wishing us well and all sorts of lovely things, like wild success and love and happiness untold. Or, in this case, wishing us to know that Sept 13, 2013 would be a Friday, which it was.


And then there were the notes written in handwriting we'd lost in the last 10 years.  Family and friends who were at our wedding, but are no longer here to hug and laugh with. Reading those notes was bittersweet-- it is all I have left of some of these people.

To feel everyone's love again was wonderful.  If you are getting married, I highly recommend doing this paint-bucket time capsule.  I wish we'd done one for 25 years, too, but on our wedding day, even 10 years later seemed impossibly far off into the distance.

This is why I have trouble with History. I can't remember and feel connected to things 10 years ago, let alone 30, let alone 3000 years. I feel like Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure, with even less understanding of the past, but with slightly better hair.

If Bill had red hair, and Ted was Theodora, this would be exactly what it's like. I think this is exactly the haircut I had in 1993.  No wonder Rufus is rolling his eyes.

That paint bucket, by the way, followed us when we moved to Denver, Colorado shortly after we were married, and to 2 dwellings while we were there, and back again to Canadia to our house now.

That paint bucket has seen us through 2 dogs, 2 cats, 2 kids and 2 cars.   Our bucket hung out while we ripped up carpeting and put down laminate flooring, and when I painted the wall of our house with crazy squares because we couldn't afford to buy any art that would fit the space. It lived in the spooky crawlspace of our 1-floor house and didn't manage to piss off the werewolf family that lived in there and guarded our Christmas tree.

These notes of love sent encouragement when I had to wait a year for in-state tuition even though we'd lived in Colorado for 363 days prior to the cut-off date.  The "get take-out" one was especially loud before we had kids and completely changed the way we eat so they could be healthier.  Now it's quieter, but still (as far as I'm concerned)  quite insistent.  ha.

Our bucket of ideas and wishes planned out some "really, really, really, really" tall kids, which, as predicted by my friend in Missoula, "Two Great Danes do not a Chihuahua make."  Prophetic? Possibly.  Hilarious? Yep.  And do we have two gigantic children? Uh-huh.

What the bucket didn't say was how many people we'd meet that would be so important to us.  Some friends have been constant, some more temporary.  But all have a special place in our hearts and lives.

Now I sound like a Beatles song.

It's true though. Just like Star Wars (VHS) there is a time and a place for that fun stuff, and if you want the people who are important to you to remain that way, you have to update them for the times.  Lucasfilms gets a lot of flak for adding background, adding cut scenes et cetera.  But, I think everything that is different is (initially) troublesome to people resistant to change.

If it's awesome, why change it, right?

Well, I'll tell you why: because no matter how awesome it seems today, the same thing 10 years from now will seem like a bunch of 2-year olds invented it with playdough and sticks.  You don't want your friendships to seem like a bunch of toddlers are running the show do you? Well, do you?

When you watch VHS Star Wars TODAY, you feel cheated, like there's so much AWESOME that you remember, and yet, where is it now?  Nobody wants their marriage to be a "greatest hits" album. No one wants their partner for life to be some idiot reliving glory days from 10 years ago.  That's why Lucasfilms did what it did.

Those edits are like friendships maturing, changing but being the same because everyone changes.  No one stays the same without choosing to do so.  Everyone changes, and it's those of us who insist on changing together that make it down these long roads to milestones.  I mean, the Me that was ME 10 years ago, is not the ME I am today.  Not wholly anyway.  I remain Mostly Me because Husband has remained Mostly Him.  And together, we're the same people we were, only better.

So thanks for being there (if you were), and for showing up late (if you're new).

We appreciate you keeping a spot in our lives, and letting us occupy a spot in yours.

Happenstance and New Pets

One morning as the reddening leaves swirled in the wind and we readied ourselves for school, I heard our front door open and close.  Intrigued, since I could see our 3-year old and knew it wasn’t he who was making the escape, I called for our 6-year old. 

No answer. 

I glanced out the front window and noticed she was returning from the end of the driveway quickly.  I also noticed a giant, big, cardboard box in the drive.

She slipped quietly back into the house and I pretended not to notice.  She went to her bathroom and brushed her teeth.  She finished getting ready for school.  Nothing out of the ordinary except she’d left the house secretly for about 60-seconds and as a result (or perhaps because of it?) there was a cardboard box at the end of our driveway.

I figured we were going to miss the bus anyway, so I let things take a little longer this morning and got Kiddo #2 ready for a drive to school and daycare.  Nonchalantly, Kiddo #1 entered the kitchen and sat down in front of her cereal. 

Me: Morning, honey.  You look really ready for school.  Yay you!

Kiddo #1:  Thanks Mom!

Me: How’s the cereal?

Kiddo #1: Good. Pretty good, Mom.

Me: What’s the box in the driveway?

Kiddo #1: Oh, I uh, I dunno.

Me: Really?

Kiddo #1: Well, it might be for anything.

Me: Really?

Kiddo #1: Well, it might be.

Me: Ok. 

I let it go and packed up the book bags and lunches and got Kiddo #2 into the car. The bus was long gone by this point and the two of us nonchalantly, no-big-deal-ish, got into the car.  I backed it out of the garage and faced the car at the end of the driveway and stopped. 

It was at that point that I noticed there was writing on the box.

Me: What do you suppose it says on that box?

Kiddo #1: I uh, well, I uh, dunno.

Me: Really?

Kiddo#1: Well, it’s in black marker, I see.

Me: Sure.

Kiddo #1: Well, that’s a serious-message colour.

Me: Yes.

Kiddo #1: If it was silly or not real, it would be in lots of colours.

Me: Yes.

Kiddo #1:  So. It could be for ... uh, puppies.

Me: Puppies?

Kiddo #1: Well, I mean, I don’t know for sure.

Me: Let’s drive up and see.

Kiddo #1:  No! You should just leave the box.

Me: Well we have to go to school anyways, so we’ll just check it out when we get to the end of the driveway.

I pulled up and looked at the box. On one side it said “Free Puppies” and on the other side, it said, “Please Leave Your Free Puppies here” 

Honestly.  Then, I giggled.

Of course. 

Where are puppies left in any assortment of children’s movies? In cardboard boxes on the side of the road.   

I started to really chortle when I thought of some cartoon guy in overalls driving around in a 1950’s style truck with a litter of cute puppies crawling all over the passenger seat.  He’s frantic; he loves the puppies but he can’t keep them.  He’s looking for a box –any cardboard box would do-- to put them in so he could give them away.  And, as luck would have it, here is a box at the end of a driveway, begging for free puppies! 

How could he not oblige the polite request? He looks back at the pups, then to the box and back at the puppies.  Surely the people who put this box out were serious (hence the black marker), good people (good manners goes a long way!) who could take care of his litter of beautiful pups. 

Then, I realized how incredibly smart Kiddo #1’s plan truly was. 

... And that’s how we ended up with 3 identical puppies, Husband.  I swear.  It was just a flukey thing... totally random... happenstance.