Halloween comes on the thirty-first of October every year. Eighteen years ago when we carried our daughter in our arms, we went to the pastor’s house for his annual party in a neighborhood that gathered many for trick-or-treating. We dressed her as a pumpkin and since it is not wise to give candy to a baby, we ate her candy that year.
Ten years ago, my wife bought new pillow covers for the bedroom. The old ones were grey and melancholy. I took one and cut eye holes in it then stapled blue plastic filters over the eye holes. It looked menacing but breathing was a chore. I cut a mouth hole and sewed in an industrial stainless steel mouth shaped screen over the hole. This allowed air to pass freely and kept anyone from seeing the person behind the mask. I combined it with an old Shotgun Red hat and it made for one scary scarecrow.
Halloween night, I donned my old flame retardant coat which became stained and threadbare from many years of climbing through steel mills. I found some gloves that made my hand appear grossly oversized. My oversized protective greens over my jeans and twenty-year-old boots completed the ensemble. My wife found some straw and we stuffed it between buttons and seams in the costume. It is time to scare some kids, all good fun at the pastor’s house.
Did I mention, my dog is a Karen? Ginger has her own door for entering and exiting the house. Her leash slides between the door and the frame. Most times she goes out, there is business to do. Other times, she sees something to complain about and goes out to bark and howl at it. (See my previous post about the dog two doors down) On rare occasions and being a Karen, she stops just outside the door to look for a complaint in the neighborhood. She will stand just outside the door looking in all directions for something out of place. A few years ago, our neighbor placed a wooden owl on his fence as decorations. This amounted to a week’s worth of barking and growling.
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