"Wait...WHAT'S my costume?!?"

"I'll bet living in a nudist colony takes all the fun out of Halloween." Unknown

Oh, tomorrow is the big day. My kids have been counting down the days for weeks. Time for costumes and trick-or-treating and coming home with a bag full of candy. In their eyes, life doesn't get much better.
They don't know how good they have it.
Halloween was a lot different when I was a kid in the 70s. Very, very rarely did we get store-bought costumes. It was up to our parents to make us something. And it was a genetic roll of the dice if we had a parent who was creative enough to come up with something that didn't make us cringe with embarrassment or roll our eyes with disgust. I'll never forget the angel costume my parents designed for me in third grade, complete with the enormous tinfoil wings my dad crafted for hours. Wait, maybe I was a fairy. Either way my costume was big, over the top, and sparkly. Just the way I like all my accessories. I remember my teachers oohing and aahing over me in the Halloween parade, when I won the best costume award.
It almost made up for the year before when in a moment of last minute panic, my parents decided to design my costume at my grandparents farm. My grandma Tillie decided that my cousin Jena and I were going to go as gypsies. For whatever reason, I was not happy with that choice. No amount of dangly earrings (made out of Mason canning jar lids) or rouge on my cheeks was going to make me feel better. Maybe it was the fact that I didn't have a fancy costume (just green corduroy bell-bottoms), or my hair was laid flat under a bandanna. Who knows. It was 1977; reason and logic were not part of my vocabulary. I found a picture of the three of us - me, Tillie and Jena. Between my grandma's monster mask and death-like grip on my arms (who knew she had the strength of ten Russian soldiers), the only one in that photo truly excited for Halloween was my cousin. Look at her face...true bliss.

My kids have never known what it's like to cross their fingers and hope their parents creatively design a costume. Oh no...the Halloween costume catalogs start arriving at our house in the summer. My kids will circle their choices like we used to do with toys in the Sears Christmas catalog.
"I think I want to be Ninja..."
"I'm going to be a Rock Star Witch...with fake nails and blue hair extensions..."
"Mom, can I order the Renaissance costume? It's only $60."
What? Are you kidding me? Costume prices are insane. But I'll be honest...I started indulging their greedy little consumerism traits for this holiday before they could walk. With four kids, it was always great fun to do a theme.
And we've done some good ones...
Wizards of Oz
Super Heroes
Pirates
It makes me a little ill to think of all the money we've spent on costumes and decorations over the years for Halloween, but when I pull out old photos of them smiling from ear to ear, dressed in matching dalmatian puppy outfits, I don't have a single regret.
It'll be interesting to see what Halloween is like for the next generation. Do you think creativity will even play a part? Will everything come from a store? Or will there still be parents sitting around a table, drinking Pabst Blue Ribbon and trying to come up with a quick and easy solution?
Hmm...it'll be interesting to see, that's for sure.
And just in case anyone is struggling for ideas... I know where you can fashion out a pair of earrings from of a jar of tomatoes.

"Vacation, all I ever wanted... Vacation, HAD to GET away..."

"Nothing lasts forever...so live it up, drink it down, laugh it off, avoid the bullshit, take chances and never have regrets...because at one point, everything you did was exactly what you wanted."

I couldn't have picked a better quote to describe my thoughts after my girls getaway if I had written it myself (which I didn't). Last week I went on an amazing vacation to California with girls I've known since Farrah Fawcett was one of Charlie's Angels. For the last several years the six of us had all been planning on something fun and fantastic for our 40th birthdays. Apparently we all thought we'd be super rich because we tentatively planned on the Bahamas. Once realization sunk in, we decided to fly off to California to visit Jill instead.
Five of us left our kids, our jobs and our lives at home to hop on a plane and  just hang out with each other. That was it. There were no plans for exotic sight-seeing tours, no agendas for night clubs or bars. All we wanted to do was relax and catch up with each others' lives.
When I think of the six of us, I have to admit - I'm not sure if we had met as adults if we'd all be as close as we are now for meeting when we were still in training bras and saddle shoes.
My first memory of Jill is bonding in a bathroom stall at Malone while in third grade, when I confessed my first boyfriend Jay broke up with me because I got a perm. "He's not worth it," she assured me. Wise advice coming from an 8 year old. Even then she seemed worldly.
My first memory of Kim is when we attended the same church growing up, and finding ways to sneak out of confirmation classes because surely there were more fun things to do than sit in a classroom and memorize the books of the Bible. She was always my partner in crime for the fun stuff. Sweet and innocent on the outside but a little bit of devil on the inside.
My first memory of Marnie (she actually goes by Marlo now and has for her entire adult life; I just can't bring myself to switch) is choreographing complicated dance moves to commercials. To this day I'm surprised a Hollywood producer never spotted us and signed us on the spot for a video. We were that good.
My first memory of Stephanie is taking home ec classes together. We just always liked the same things, and always liked to hang out. Whether it was chasing boys from Hastings or shaving our heads for the latest trend...I knew she'd be game for the fun stuff.
And as far as Beth goes... she was just always in for whatever. "Hey, let's go to Kmart and buy matching black and white outfits and wear them to the first day of 7th grade. We will be so cool." "I'm in!" Plus her parents owned a bar and she had the coolest rec room ever above her garage.
Everything on our vacation was funny. As grown women, our personalities definitely showed through, but somehow that made things even funnier.
On the plane ride there, my ADD and impatience at flying made itself known early. "What time is it?" I kept pestering my friends. When a flight attendant walked by, I pulled on her sleeve and whispered "How many more minutes?" Thankfully Marnie had packed about 6 months worth of People magazine along in her carry-on, and the mindless absorption of celebrity news kept me busy for most of the time.
After awhile I pulled out my phone and asked Stephanie, "I can turn this on now, right? They don't ban your cell phones on planes anymore do they?"
"Don't do it!" she admonished. "I swear, I just saw something on tv the other night. It will screw something up electrically with the plane I think."
Kim stood up and turned around in her seat. "No way, that is absolutely not true. If a cell phone had that sort of power the airlines would confiscate all of our phones and electronics before we even got on board."
Stephanie and I looked sheepishly at each other. I guess that made sense. Why screen for more than 3 ounces of liquid or sharp objects if someone is trying to smuggle on an iPhone that could possibly bring down a Boeing 747?
We arrived safely and started looking for Jill's husband Joe, who was sent to bring us back to their house. He's kind of a big cheese in the Navy, so we were secretly hoping he'd show up in his uniform.
"What if we get down to the baggage area and he's holding up a sign that says 'Welcome Prescott Bitches'"? I asked the other girls. That, fortunately or unfortunately, did not happen.
Once we made it to Jill's house, it was like no time at all had come between our last visits. We hugged, we squealed, we jumped up and down when we saw her.
And I'm happy to say... the rest of our vacation was that light hearted and happy.
The next day we rode bikes along the beach in a single file line, and made little comments about the people we rode by. When a large, 300+ pound shirtless man jogged by us, with his big ol' Santa belly glistening in the sun, I looked over my shoulder and said one word to Jill: "Dibs." When one of us would walk in front of the other, we'd announce in a sing-song voice, "Wish I had a burger to go with that shake." In essence, we all transformed into our cocky, loud-mouthed 17 year old selves.
And every night we sat around a fire and talked for hours. We looked at yearbooks and laughed until we cried. I don't think there was a single topic off limits. We covered it all.
Do you like your job?
How's your marriage going?
Do you shave, wax or go 70s retro?
How are your kids doing?
Why won't my son poop?
Do my nipples look weird?
Why did you sleep with that guy in college anyway?
How old were you when you lost your virginity? (Although, most of us usually knew the answers to that one because hey...we've been friends for a long time)
There's just something so comforting about being with friends that have known you and all your insecurities and hang-ups and have seen you evolve as a person. They're your biggest cheerleaders and supporters and you can't put a price on that.
The end of our trip came much faster than any of us wanted. We all marvelled that there was no drama, no fighting, no tension. Just a lot of love and support for each other. On the flight home I have a sneaking suspicion one of my friends slipped me a sleeping pill (to avoid my incessant questions) because I slept for most of the flight.
Or maybe I was just wiped out from all of our talking.
So like I said before, maybe we wouldn't all be friends now if we had met as adults. We come from different demographics and have different social circles now.
But somehow there is this magnetic pull with these women, and I wouldn't trade them for the world. After we took this picture, someone cracked "This photograph is probably going to end up on a greeting card with some funny saying, in our grandkids' time."
We should be so lucky.

"You wanna see something REALLY scary...?"

"I've seen enough horror movies to know that any weirdo wearing a mask is never friendly." Friday the 13th Part VI

I think I'm going to blame it on my babysitter in the 70's.
When I was about 9 and my brother was 6, my parents went out some rare evening and hired a babysitter. It got to be about bedtime, and I was pestering her with questions on her exotic teenage life.
"Do you have a boyfriend?"
"Do you go on dates?"
"Have you seen any movies?"
"Actually, yes," she answered. "We just saw a movie called 'When a Stranger Calls.'"
My brother and I begged her to tell us what it was about.
"Well," she began, "it was about this babysitter..."
"Yeah??" my brother and I replied, each sprawled out on the floor in front of her, wearing our pajamas, chins in our hands, not even taking our eyes off of her.
"And she was watching these kids and she kept getting prank calls where all she could hear was 'Have you checked on the children?' And she was getting so worried and she finally called the police. After a few more calls the police called her back and said 'The calls are coming from inside the house!' So the babysitter ran out and the police showed up."
My brother and I looked at each other, then back at her. "What about the kids?" I asked.
"Oh, yeah," she replied. "Well, they were brutally murdered."
She stretched her arms over her head.
"Ok, you two. Time for bed."
I think at that point in time my brother and I both had the exact same thought running through our heads: "You gotta be f---in' kidding me."
I'm pretty sure the two of us slept in the same room for the next three years.
Scary movies have had ahold of me ever since. The gory ones, like Texas Chainsaw Massacre, don't scare me nearly as much as the thriller/suspense ones. I remember watching "Omen" as a ten year old and becoming almost paralyzed with the baboon freak-out scene and the chilling words: "...for it is the number of a man; and his number is 666." It was probably one of the only times I raced to open up the bible to confirm.
"Holy shit..." I whispered to myself. This was heavy duty stuff. I think I remember pinning my brother down one time to check the back of his neck when he was acting suspiciously unruly.
Sorry about that, Shawn.
Now my kids love to sit around and watch zombie movies. "Dawn of the Dead" was our most recent showcase during Family Movie Night. (save your Poor Parenting Choices nominations...I've got that award in the bag already)
Zombie movies are okay, but I don't think they're terrifying.
Not like "Blair Witch Project." I saw that movie at a matinee and I still was nervous walking in the theater's parking lot afterwards during the middle of the day. It swore me off camping for years.
I watched "The Ring" and now am never able to come within five feet of a well.
I went to go see "Paranormal Activity" and was so freaked out I had to go to church the next day. While in the theater I became one of those people who talk back to the screen: "Are you outta your mind? Why would you bring a Ouija board into your house? Girl... you are just ASKING for trouble."
And I'm not kidding around with that Ouija board stance. It is strictly forbidden in my home. My mom once casually mentioned that she would pick up one for my kids and I almost had a stroke. "Absolutely not!" I told her. "You do not mess around with that stuff."
And a fair warning to my brother ~ if you think you're being funny and get my kids a Ouija board for Christmas this year, I swear to God I will take a crap and put it in your mailbox.
Remember that scene in "The Shining", when Jack Nicholson's character is chasing his wife and son through that maze of trees while it's snowing? It's that image that makes me run to the mailbox at night during winter at record speed.
Now my girlfriends want to schedule a Scary Movie Sleepover. I like the concept... we all sit around in our pajamas and eat appetizers and tell local scary stories and watch horror movies. But I get nervous when I think of how it's going to end.
Everyone's going to eventually nod off and go to sleep. Everyone but me. I'll be awake, checking out the windows, making sure the doors are locked, and trying to hold my bladder until morning.
So yes, I admit I'm a big talker and say I love to watch scary movies.
In daylight.
Surrounded by other people.
With a dog by my side.
And now that it's October and scary movies are on cable every night, let's see how brave I can finally be. Maybe I'll be able to finally listen to the theme music to "Halloween" without sweat running from my armpits.
That dang babysitter.