We had big plans for Halloween this year. By big plans I mean that we were actually going to dress up and go out.
Thursday night I baked and baked (some triumphs, some failures), and was sure to use my one of my favorite rubber spatulas. (Thanks, Tanya!)
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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.
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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.
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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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And wouldn't you know it, we didn't get a single one. Maybe they'd seen my Facebook status:
Children who are not in costume do not receive candy. "Not in costume" includes but is not limited to: student, pedestrian, kid. I will egg and/or attack those children arriving at my house who demand candy but are not in costume.
Heh. I guess I'll have to eat all of this candy. Damn.
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