Tag Archives: trick-or-treat

Weekend in Washington

And so goes another weekend. Another Halloween. Another Marine Corps Marathon. Another Rally to Restore Sanity and/or Fear. Another October, gone.

My ears are still ringing from the flip-flip-flip of calendar pages turning in animation, the door bell ringing, endless political ads and the oohs and ows following my husband’s excellent Marathon performance. Thank goodness I Restored my Sanity.

As far as the Rally, which by the way was an absolute blast, you’ve no doubt read the news, watched the television coverage and seen the 100 Best Signs, so there’s not much I can add. Except my favorite sign: “Take it off CAPS LOCK.”

I trust the weekend provided the District of Columbia’s economy with a big burst of stimulus, thanks to the Rally on Saturday, Marathon on Sunday and traditionally huge crowds in Georgetown Sunday night.

I outgrew Halloween in Georgetown many years ago. Instead, I spent the evening on our front porch, in a rocker, wrapped in a blanket, Elvis the cat in my lap. The trick-or-treaters thought he was part of my costume. Crazy Cat Lady.

Nearly 500 revelers came to our door dressed in about 40 different costumes. In addition to the usual witches, cats, fairy princesses and superheroes, there were emergent, yet unfamiliar themes that proved I am not seeing enough movies or playing enough video games. Don’t tell my nephews I asked this, but what in heaven’s galaxy is a clone trooper?

If I could give out prizes, I’d reward all the kids wearing homemade costumes—including a pair of 1920s flappers, a set of black and white Siamese twins and a foursome of six-year-old Mafia men.

But my favorite comes from the only-in-Washington category. He was a little guy dressed in a suit and tie, pressed white shirt, good dress shoes and a leather briefcase.

He was a lobbyist.

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Filed under Holidays, Movies, Television and Radio, News, Politics

Bah! Humbug!

Alas, Halloween weekend is upon us. At the risk of solidifying your impression of me as a grouch, I must confess this is not my favorite holiday. I did endure in good humor a week of Halloween episodes of my favorite TV shows, but am relieved to have that over with.

Those who know me well know there aren’t many holidays I do like, mostly because of their power to impose unrealistic demands on us. But, as the next two months unfold, you will learn this about me soon enough.

So, what’s my beef with Halloween? I’ll hit the couch and tell you that much of it goes back to childhood. For some reason, I frequently got sick on Halloween night. Not from too much candy; I didn’t even make it out the door for trick-or-treating. Whether I spiked a high fever or spouted a projectile nosebleed right there in my Mary Poppins costume, something tended to strike me.

When I was seven, we moved to Cleveland on Halloween day, so I would have missed trick-or-treating altogether. I was heart-broken. My parents suggested I go out the night before to score some candy. So out I went, on October 30th, without my friends, in my Japanese kimono, ringing doorbells around the neighborhood. What did I find? That most people didn’t buy candy until Halloween day, so I caught many neighbors off guard. But don’t worry, I got over that and I trust they did too.

In those days, kids were cut off from trick-or-treating around age 12, which I think is an appropriate age. Nowadays, trick-or-treaters come in all ages, many without costumes, and this bugs me.

Believe it or not, up to 500 trick-or-treaters come to our door every Halloween. They begin before dinner and ring the doorbell well past 10 p.m. There’s a large Halloween attraction on the street behind our house, which draws people from all over. So, after enjoying the haunted houses, pirate ships and mazes, kids, teens and adults go around the block to trick-or-treat. What the news stories always capture is the cheery neighborliness of this gathering. So how can we not open our door enthusiastically?

Perhaps the most difficult part of Halloween is new to me this year. This is the year I had to give up chocolate.

So, if you happen to be at “Scary Perry” on Sunday night, stop by. I’ll be the one shot-gunning Pixy Stix.

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Filed under Foibles and Faux Pas, Food, Health, Holidays, Rants and Raves