All Saints' Day

Halloween was booming for us. Maybe because the neighbors put on such a show, and we got the spillover. And the lack of rain helped a bunch! Usually we get about 30 trick-or-treaters. This year - 62. DH had bought a bag of fun-sized candy to take to work, so when we ran out of full-sized candybars, we had to break into his stash. At the end, I even had to open a bag of chocolate kisses to keep the bowl from looking plundered. It was funny to see the older kids grab the biggest candy in the bowl, and the little kids going for the SHINY kisses. We had dozens of witches of all sizes, a score of Spidermen, about eleven Ironmen, any number of little princesses and a few vampires. My favorite was one lad who had taken a pair of black and white striped pantyhose, pulled them over his head, cut an eyehole on one side and plastered on the makeup where his one eye showed through. Very surreal.

The suburban parents have developed an interesting solution to the problem of getting from one cluster of "treating" houses to the next. Mom stays in the SUV and dad walks the littles up to the door. Then everyone piles back into the rig and they drive half a block to the next lighted house. When someone gets too tired and cranky, they can just get belted into their car seat and snooze while everyone else carries on.

We also got one mom who was maybe 17, with her infant in a stroller. The kid was half asleep by the time mom got to our house, but Mom carried on none-the-less. It's not just the kids who enjoy the trick-or-treating. We turned out the lights at 9PM.

Then, at 2 AM, the time changed. However, we neglected to tell the kitties. Usually we get up at 5 and Feed The Kitties. So, as far as they were concerned, it was 5:15 and we were negligent. It was only 4:15 by our clocks, but no one had reset the feline tummies. I got the first gentle whiskers and purrs snorted into the face. Patpat-the-nice-cat. "Go to sleep. It's too early." Then I hear purrs and grunts from DH's pillow. He pulled the covers over his head. The cat sat on his head, mentally cursing us a lazy, worthless slaves. Then a large rustle and grunt which I interpreted as cat launching herself from husband's head to shelf above the bed. Purring subsided as even that insult failed to produce the desired results. So, since I was lying on my back and occasionally fluttering my eyelashes, and since I am the primary breakfast slave, she began to bat things down on me. The bottle of night cream hit the pillow next to my head. A tin of Burt's Bees cuticle butter made a direct hit on my cheekbone. The empty lightweight plastic water glass nailed me right between the eyes. I folded my arms over my face and stubbornly refused to move. Unfortunately, this left my belly exposed. At 4:27, a ten pound furry cannonball landed just south of my navel, on top of a full bladder. I got up.

The kitties, (particularly Pepper, the enforcer) and I will have a long and serious talk today. Breakfast will be served an hour later for the next few months. Cats who don't understand this can spend a few nights in the garage.

For answering the door last night, I coated my face with silver eye-shadow. Ghostly and wierd, but not too scarey for the tykes. I washed very carefully last night, but I'm still finding the occasional glint and glitter. It makes me happy.

At 4:25 the sky was clear and full of bright cold stars. Now, at 7AM, we have muted daylight and fog. Very, very November. May yours be grand!