Thursday night I baked and baked (some triumphs, some failures), and was sure to use my one of my favorite rubber spatulas. (Thanks, Tanya!)
And here is the other festive thing in our house. I don't do pumpkins here in Savannah, even though I am a champion pumpkin carver (see: pumpkin carved with a silhouette of Elvis dancing; see: pumpkin carved with the Family Ties logo). Pumpkins rot in Savannah. Stupid Savannah, ruining my life.
Anyway, here's the spider decoration that I stole from a small child. I wish I was lying.
But we both got sick. Not crazy sick or swine flu sick, but sick enough to dread parties and costumes. Looks like Werewolf Bar/Bas Mitzvah will have to wait until next year, and I've got a head start. I've already got a yard of fur.
I figured that I'd just sit around tonight, watch movies, grade papers, and hand out candy to all of the trick-or-treaters. Last year, I didn't expect trick-or-treaters, so when a bunch of them showed up (by the way, they either neglected to wear a costume at all, or wore their football uniforms--BOOOOO!), I had to break into Matt's stash of miniature Reese's cups. Needless to say, Matt was displeased.
Because my learning curve isn't completely flat, I decided that this year I would be prepared. I had a variety of kickass candy, and I was ready.
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