If you thought this blog post was about religion, special church services, or chasing ghosts and/or booze, stop right here. It isn’t.
This blog is not about
(1) searching for God. In fact, I don’t want to talk about God with any of you ever. Particularly those of you who think you there’s a special gate off to the right for Conservatives that will take you backstage, where you’ll flash your Jesus Pass and get special perks.
(2) searching for liquor. In fact, I do not search for booze. It searches for me. At least there are times when it seems to be calling my name: and for some unknown reason, it always sounds like Tom Waits.
(3) searching for ghosts. I’m not saying they don’t exist. As the haver of chemically-imbalanced friends who hang out in graveyards and seek paranormal occurrences as a hobby, I will concede that perhaps not all things can be explained – and I’ve no desire to explain them. You want to communicate with pissed-off people in the netherworld? Fine – but leave me out of it and go find yourself a courageous Catholic Girl with a container of Holy Water. I’m not trying to hobnob with brain-eaters and haints. Besides, I’m partially brown. Based on information gleaned from the big screen, this decreases my odds of survival in any battles against deranged murders or evil spirits. So, if you landed here looking for a how-to on hunting down spirits, you’ll have to ask these folks. I can’t help you.
Now that we’ve established what this blog is not about – I’ll tell you what it is about.
Halloween and how much I normally love it.
Perhaps scarred by that time in `77 when Aunt Bertie got super-religious, went on a crusade to ban all things Halloween and burned our Knack cassette tapes because she thought My Sharona was subliminal devil music, I’ve always celebrated Halloween with an unusual fervor. A vengance. Like it might be my last Halloween ever. Like some crazy ass lady in a “Jesus Saves” tube-top might wander along and kick my pumpkin to smithereens and declare the Holiday off limits at any time. Like the ordeal of nearly losing my trick-or-treating rights as a child turned me into some warped, fishnet-wearing, Halloween-loving fool – who has an extensive collection of electric Jack-o-Lanterns and an Elite pumpkin carving set from the QVC.
Like I’m a damn grown up and I’m eating ALL of this candy corn and YA’LL CAN’T STOP ME!
You know – like that.
I mean what’s not to love about Halloween? There are sweet treats, parties, scary movies, stories and decorations. Adults can play dress-up and terrify small children without having DCS called on them or being remanded to the psych-ward. We don’t care if people have lime green hair or are pierced, tattooed and wear a bone in their nose. Anything goes. Even the Baptist are tolerant of cross-dressers on Halloween.
Well, most are. My neighbors are opposed to celebrating the holiday because it originated as a pagan/debil festival and the candy corn people are probably in on some plot to throw Christianity. Yep, we have some of those people. (For the record, I’ve always respected their view. I don’t send my children to their door for candy or around back with a roll of charmin and a carton of eggs. Now if only they give me a break stop shoving those “Celebrate the Devil: Go to Hell” pamphlets in my mailbox or behaving as thought I’m some type of black magic woman out to curse their Pomeranian dog. Honestly, I had any real hoodooin’ powers, don’t you think I’d use it to “excorcize” the sticks from their asses.)
Alas, here is the problem, my neighbors aren’t annoyed yet. In previous years, by the first week in Oct, I’ve turned my lawn into a graveyard scene. I’ve planned the party and I’m putting the final touches on my costume. This year, the pumpkins, tombstones and skeletons are still in the attic, making friends with spiders and dust motes. And party? I haven’t gotten that far yet, I’m running out of time and I’m just not feeling it. So, it’s up to you Internet People to help get me into the swing of things by sharing your Halloween spirit. Tell me your best Halloween memories, your plans for this year or brag about your coolest costume ever.
Hopefully your frighteningly festive mood will be contagious… I’d sure hate to miss an opportunity to piss of the neighbors.