Sunday, October 26, 2008
Several weeks ago, long before the kids on the block even knew what they were going to be for Halloween, I asked each of them to name their favorite candy. Since then, as the nights have grown progressively cooler and Sierra has announced that she will be Dorothy to Keshon's zombie, my small house has swelled with each child's favorite candy. In large bar form. Poor Keshon and his peanut allergy, his favorite bar is Hershey's plain.
As one of my favorite holidays approaches, vast storehouses of candy for trick-or-treaters has found its way into my house, one bag at a time. I have a huge pewter platter from the Court of Two Sisters upon which I'll place the rest of the candy (190 bars), destined for plastic jack-o-lantern buckets belonging to kids I don't know. Since I didn't see a single costumed child in southeast Missouri, and while I would randomly see roving bands of uncostumed teenagers in New Orleans asking for candy, I didn't really see little kids dressed like Cleopatra there, either, I'm excited about living in a neighborhood dominated by single family homeowners. Halloween's going to be fun in Columbia. So, see the chart of the candy currently stashed in a cloth grocery bag in an unnamed part of my tiny house. The Junior Mints are meant for those kids who are strange like I was, wanting nothing but peanut butter toffees, Tootsie Rolls, and Special Darks. I bet they'll like Junior Mints.
Thanks to my awesome mother who picked up a frog hat for me last year, I'm dressing like a Southern leopard frog for work on Friday. Oh, I have an important lunch date with another agency, but I'll be in a costume that includes painted SCUBA flippers and bright green leggings. I'll bail out of work early to distribute jack-o-lantern cupcakes to the kids on the block, ensuring they'll get jacked up on sugar as they get dressed for the night. I'll wait to carve pumpkins until late in the afternoon, knowing that my cool heirloom red pumpkin will be no match to my neighbor's artistic creations, kept -even as it decomposes on her porch table- well into December.
Posted by Allison Vaughn at 9:57 PM