Just like a ghost, you’ve been a-hauntin’ my dreams,
So I’ll propose on Halloween.
Love is kinda crazy with a spooky little girl like you. ~Classics IV
Halloween has never been a favorite event for this spooky girl other than a good excuse for satiating my sweet tooth. Now I have discovered that holiday egg nog is placed on the refrigeration shelves a week before Halloween instead of the traditional Thanksgiving holiday. I always connected the aroma and nutmeggy taste of this creamy potable with “over the river and through the woods…to Grandmother’s house we go” type of scene. As much as I enjoy that high calorie refreshment, I don’t find it compatible with candy corn and dum-dums nor with Frankstein and his cohorts sipping from demitasse cups. A serving of nog is only 1/2 cup. While I’m airing my discontent with this ee-rritable observance, I must admit my fascination of the time and energy that mothers will put into the creation of costumes. However, it also places me on a guilt trip of sizable proportions. Never in my years of child rearing did I ever hand sew or hand sculpt a cartoon character or comic strip action figure. I purchased a yellow canary suit, which my daughter wore for three years in a row. One year she happened to have a little sweat shirt that had “University of Hawaii” emblazoned on it, and we added a blond wig and red lipstick. She trick or treated as a pouty college cheerleader. This Thursday another Halloween is upon us, and I will maintain my lack of enthusiasm, keep the porch light off, and hog the bag of candy. That’s scary enough.
“”Just living isn’t enough,” said the butterfly, “one must also have freedom, sunshine, and a little flower.””
– Hans Christian Anderson
My last journaling was three months ago, so let’s see if I’m able to remember the highlights of the recent span of months in this special year dedicated to the Mathematics of Planet Earth. As much as I would like to be a member of the scientific world community dealing with the problems and challenges facing Mother Earth, I’m not even close to having an academic or even an interesting perspective on this sensitive subject, although I do have an antique appearance. As you can see from the above colorful photo, I have been collecting memorabilia…badges and some pins, not shown, for my biker gear. These small items of heavy cloth and thread tell you who I am, to some degree. For instance, What would Gemma do? If you’re an aficionado of the cable series, Sons of Anarchy, you will know that Gemma is the matriarch of that bunch of bad boys. Gemma knows everything. If I need to sport this particular badge, it must reflect that I question constantly what is it that she knows. This might make me appear indecisive, but I don’t really know about that. Loud Pipes Saves Lives speaks for itself. Loud pipes also enable me to say anything I want while riding on the passenger’s seat. I’m okay as long as the passerbys can’t lip read. What about DILLIGAF? Let’s face it. Does it look like I give a foo-foo? My collection of thread count may not state any exact or logical discoveries, but at least it shows I’m taking the time to appreciate the beauty of this earth from the back of a Harley. Rock on.