You be the Judge

My daughter says I write too many stories about my grandsons. I say it's a miracle I write about anything else, I'm so crazy-in-love with them.

This week when they came to visit, Grayson, the two-year-old, arrived in his full Spiderman regalia, including, but not limited to, a red nylon hat with an eye shaped mask attached.  Soon Brody and I began to feel our wardrobe choices for the day were lacking, so we decided to remedy that by taking a trip to the costume treasure chest.

Brody, in a regal mood, was busy digging through rainbows of feather boas, looking for a crown. Meanwhile, I chose the monarch butterfly wings. He picked up my twinkly Glinda (the good witch) wand, evaluating whether or not it met his royal criteria.

He looked up for a moment, saw me flapping around the room and said,
“You're beautiful.”

Too many grandson stories? I think not!

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My Brilliant Halloween Idea

I became a vegetarian shortly after our son Josh was born and during his formative years I was pretty vigilant about what he ate.  (And by "pretty vigilant" I mean "fanatically zealous.") 

His first couple of Halloweens were not an issue because he was still little but by the time his third Halloween rolled around, there was a problem.  I was strongly against the idea of him gobbling up his weight in sugary junk (as I called candy back in the day), but I didn't want to deny him the fun that comes with dressing up in costume.

"Hmm....How to get around receiving massive amounts of candy without branding my child as a social outcast for life?" That was the question.  I mulled it over and over in my mind until I was struck with a brilliant idea! I would go in advance everywhere I would be taking him trick-or-treating and drop off a healthy snack for them to put in his bag.  This was creativity at its finest!  He'd have all the fun and none of the cavities!

And so it happened.  That Halloween and the two that followed it, Josh got tangerines, apples, oranges, bananas, popcorn and even the occasional fruit leather in his trick-or-treat pumpkin.  Everyone got to see how adorable he looked in his costumes and he got to see what all the other kids wore, too.  He got a kick out of the whole evening and seemed genuinely pleased with his healthy haul. (That's how it looked to me anyway.)

Fast forward to kindergarten.  Halloween approached but even then I didn't realize that I hadn't thought this idea through to its logical conclusion.  I had totally ignored the friend factor.  When Josh found out that all the other kids got candy when they went trick-or-treating, he had a melt down.  Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny were nothing compared to this!  Josh was beyond angry.  He was livid. 

To this very day, if you mention Halloween to him, he will zero in his pre-school years and get annoyed all over again.  In his mind, I still owe him about a hundred pounds of nerds, starbursts and skittles.

Sometimes brilliant ideas are best left alone.

We Danced

Saturday night there was a reunion dance at the clubhouse.  It featured music from the '70s, '80s and '90s and you were supposed to dress in what you wore back then.  The Goth girls of the '90s were the scariest in their short, black leather getups with black bustiers, fishnet stockings and black lipstick.  Their hair stuck up like the a rooster's combs.  Some wore white makeup, which added to the creepy factor.

(Flashback to my days as Mom the Chauffeur:  One Halloween after school I picked Katie and a neighbor boy up from high school.  Danny asked if I'd give his friend a ride home, too.  The guy had on classic Goth -- total black all the way down to his black fingernail polish and spiked leather choker.  It was truly frightening and I raved about his outfit the entire time until I dropped him off.  Then Danny said, "Mrs. Z., he wasn't wearing a costume.")

Back to the present:

Groovy!

Jerry wore what Jerry has worn every day for the entire time I have known him, blue jeans and a tee shirt.  It was probably the most authentic costume at the event. On the other hand, I wore a flower in my hair, my wire rims, beige lipstick and a maternity outfit. 

In our group,Rita was the clear winner - she had on a jean jacket, beads, a head band and John Lennon round shades, tinted bright blue. Classic biker Mama.

We danced.  I twisted, ponied, monkeyed, swam, bumped and even did the jerk.  Jerry and I busted out some of our swing moves and also fox trotted.  Finally those three years of dance classes obviously paid off!  One..two...three... One...two...three... 

The last time we did so much dancing was in the '80s.  We'd round up our neighbors and head over to the Dillsboro Civic Center on Saturday nights and have ourselves some big fun.  The rooms were smokier back then, but the band didn't seem as loud. 

When the party was over we came home, set our clocks ahead and went right to sleep.  It was easy to wake up in the morning, but it wasn't easy to get up.  Funny, I don't remember being this sore forty years ago. 

Tough Choices

I got my hair cut short in late August.  I've had it trimmed again twice since then and already hair is just sticking out every which way. Some days it looks like I'm sprouting feathers and other days I appear to be molting.  Neither of these are the chic look that I was going for but I just can't bring myself to go back and get another trim so soon.  That simply seems like too much personal primping and I don't want to turn into a narcissist (although daffodils are one of my favorite flowers.) 

I bought myself a quality witch's hat back in October and I've only worn it the one time.  It really is a thing of beauty and Mom always said black goes with everything so I'm toying with the idea of wearing the hat until my hair grows out a bit and becomes more manageable.  Thank God I didn't buy a white one, which, obviously, could only be worn between Memorial Day and Labor Day.  Come to think of it, I've never even seen a white witch's hat available for purchase.  Truth be told, I'd actually prefer a purple velvet one because purple is my favorite color and velvet is the classiest of all fabrics known to man.  This is fact, not opinion, and therefore it is not open to debate. 

On the other hand, maybe I'd prefer to wear a tiara.  After all, it is the holiday season and a twinkly tiara might just distract the eye from a disastrous hair day.

I used to have a tiny tiara that I rescued from Kate's room after she'd finished wearing it to one prom or another.  It was so small that it could fit in the palm of my hand and it glittered when light hit it.  The thing was darling.  It enchanted me.  I liked it so much that ultimately I gave it to a special friend who was turning thirteen.  Of course it was the coolest gift she received (duh.)  Every teenage girl wants to be a princess, right?  Wearing this exquisite tiara is certainly the first step in perfecting the appropriate attitude to achieve that dream.

The problem was now I no longer owned a tiara to wear when I was feeling the need to be queenly.  My husband came to my rescue though when he presented me with a new (much larger) one for our anniversary.  It is perfect!  Since I am also the proud owner of a most excellent Harry Potter wand, I can now grant wishes on the spur of the moment if I want to, which befits a benevolent queen such as myself.

Witch's hat or tiara?  Tough choice.  The hat will give me added height which is a plus, but I wore the tiara to the Home Depot the other night and I felt they treated me with just a little more respect than usual. 

Jerry the Good Witch

We have a neighborhood Halloween party tonight and Jerry has selfishly declared that he is going to be Glinda the Good Witch yet again. 

This story starts the summer three years ago on a Saturday morning.  I love to go saling (yard saling) and that is where I found THE DRESS.  I stumbled across this fabulous costume at a school fundraising sale and it was priced to sell, too.  I was sooooo excited!  All little girls dream of being beautiful princesses, don't they?  I certainly did and still do, so a pink dress made of thousands of yards of tulle with silver sparkles and puffy sleeves really spoke to me.  The tag inside said "one size fits all" and that clinched it for me.  I bought my prize and brought it home.

The thrill was short-lived because when I tried on Glinda's gown, I couldn't zip it all the way.  Now this brought up a disturbing question.  If "one size" truly "fits all" then where does that leave me?  I will be the first to admit that I could use to lose a few pounds, but I've never shopped at the big girls' shops, either.  Truth is, I consider myself mildly overweight, not morbidly obese.  Clearly the Chinese factory worker didn't agree - and compared to her I probably am pretty danged big - but this outfit had English writing on the tag, so obviously it was meant for an American audience.  The dress was about a foot too long for me so I know it wasn't made for a child either.

Halloween rolled around.  Our daughter Jessica and her new husband Brent came to help pass out candy.  I dressed Brent up as a flashy pimp.  He wore a bright red vest with sequins and a huge blue hat with an ostrich feather.  He wasn't too enthused about getting dressed up but after he saw how cool he looked, he kind of got into it.  I made Jessica "his girl" with a mink stole and a long sexy gown.  Since I couldn't wear my outfit because it wouldn't zip, I wore my default costume, Little Red Riding Hood holding the basket full of candy.  It's cute but been there, done that. We were scrounging around for something for Jerry to wear when I had one of those light bulb moments.  He could put on Glinda's outfit and I'd sew the back shut for him.  That is exactly what I did, so I only have myself to blame.

It was about then that the fun started.  When he got outside, our neighbor saw him and brought over a blond wig and a sash like Miss America wears.  His costume was the hit of the evening.  Everyone commented on it, several moms got their picture taken with him and he was having a blast getting all the attention.  Red riding hood, the pimp and his girl could have been invisible for all that anybody noticed us. 

Some of the littlest kids wouldn't even come up our sidewalk to get candy because the sight of Glinda/Jerry so disturbed them. One little girl said, "Mommy, why is that man dressed like a lady?"  She replied, "It's Halloween, honey.  You can be whoever you want to be on Halloween!" 

I'm all for moments in the sun and we certainly got our money's worth out of that outfit, wringing out every ounce of fun we could.  Everyone enjoyed that Halloween and the pictures I took of Jerry as Glinda have surfaced all over facebook and even popped up as part of a presentation his boss did at work. When people see them, they laugh.

The problem is this:  I have lost ten pounds this year and now I can actually wear THE DRESS myself and zip it up.  This is a big deal for me so I feel I should get to be Glinda.  Jerry claims squatter's rights though and his trump card is that nobody in our new town has seen him in this costume yet.

One of us has to be the big man here and, in all honesty, he does look charming dressed in pink tulle.  Who could resist him?  He can wear the outfit one more time and I'll try not to begrudge him his fun.  He doesn't know it yet but I have even borrowed a wig, found a pink tiara (with marabou) and gotten a glittery silver wand for him to carry.  He will be the hit of the party, that's a given.

 As for me, I toyed with going as a munchkin - I've got that shortness thing going for me - but then I found myself the coolest witches' hat ever, made with velvet and feathers so I'm going as Elphaba (better known as the Wicked Witch of the West.)  As an added bonus, I have a wand that shoots blue lasers around the room so I will be able to cast real spells. As a final plus, everyone knows that dressing totally in black is slimming.

Happy Halloween.