Well, OK!
13 Reasons I Don’t Like Halloween
We've tried the trick-or-treat thing once or twice, and more recently we've gone to harvest parties. This year I'm dressing up as the Halloween Scrooge! BAH HUMBUG! (Actually, this year there's no harvest party so we'll be hiding in the basement having a Movie Night Pajama Party, complete with popcorn.)
1. The same kids keep coming back, and on the latter visits they shout indignantly, "Hey! That was only one! You gave me three baby Snickers LAST time!"
2. If I bother taking the kids trick-or-treating, we have to walk half a mile to find a house with the light on. And we live in the city.
3. Sometime after 10pm, a drunk 18-year-old trick-or-treater who isn't in costume will ring the doorbell and demand candy. It won't matter that the porch light has been off all evening.
4. There’s not much point to a costume if you have to wear a snowsuit over top of it.
5. Except there will always be at least one crowd of pre-teen girls roaming the streets without snowsuits, without clothing, too. (Costumed as the Spice Girls?)
6. However much I enjoyed dressing up as a Hatchet-Murder-Victim in my youth (I was a macabre child), I am disturbed by my own child’s interest in the fake blood and oozing scabs on sale at the grocery store.
7. The pumpkin three weeks after Halloween, which has frozen and thawed several times and is no longer, ahem, orange.
8. Candy wrappers in the yard.
9. The reminders for parents to check their children’s candy carefully for signs of tampering. Or rather, the need to issue such reminders.
10. How disappointing Halloween must be for those who dress in costume every day. (Click here.)
11. The whispers I’ve been hearing that local shopping malls will soon be dressing employees in giant pumpkin suits so little children can stand in line to go sit on the pumpkin’s lap and tell him what they want for Halloween.
12. Tomorrow morning all the stores will trade out their Halloween decorations for Christmas.
13. A celebration of evil and death and horror. Personally, I don’t think any of those things are worth celebrating. Do you?
1. The same kids keep coming back, and on the latter visits they shout indignantly, "Hey! That was only one! You gave me three baby Snickers LAST time!"
2. If I bother taking the kids trick-or-treating, we have to walk half a mile to find a house with the light on. And we live in the city.
3. Sometime after 10pm, a drunk 18-year-old trick-or-treater who isn't in costume will ring the doorbell and demand candy. It won't matter that the porch light has been off all evening.
4. There’s not much point to a costume if you have to wear a snowsuit over top of it.
5. Except there will always be at least one crowd of pre-teen girls roaming the streets without snowsuits, without clothing, too. (Costumed as the Spice Girls?)
6. However much I enjoyed dressing up as a Hatchet-Murder-Victim in my youth (I was a macabre child), I am disturbed by my own child’s interest in the fake blood and oozing scabs on sale at the grocery store.
7. The pumpkin three weeks after Halloween, which has frozen and thawed several times and is no longer, ahem, orange.
8. Candy wrappers in the yard.
9. The reminders for parents to check their children’s candy carefully for signs of tampering. Or rather, the need to issue such reminders.
10. How disappointing Halloween must be for those who dress in costume every day. (Click here.)
11. The whispers I’ve been hearing that local shopping malls will soon be dressing employees in giant pumpkin suits so little children can stand in line to go sit on the pumpkin’s lap and tell him what they want for Halloween.
12. Tomorrow morning all the stores will trade out their Halloween decorations for Christmas.
13. A celebration of evil and death and horror. Personally, I don’t think any of those things are worth celebrating. Do you?
Something Surprising ...
On the few days I've deemed as No Screen Days, the hours of Mud Pie's nap seem endless. "I'm bored! SO Bored!"
The computer has been broken for going on three weeks. They've all been "no screen days." But yesterday afternoon I sat down to have a cup of tea. No one was talking to me, no chorus of "I'm soooo bored!" but it was far from quiet.
I heard little voices - one at my feet. "Jabber jabber jabber." I don't know what Fish was saying, but it wasn't really him talking anyway. His Little People farmer was loading matchbox cars into the bed of a wagon. "Come on, everybody in, jabber jabber."
Another voice came from the dining room - a high-pitched shriek of "Noooooo!" But it was a quiet shriek. I went in to see St. Nick bent over a Lego contraption that looked startlingly like a medieval torture device. His little Lego man whisper-screamed again, "Don't eat me! Don't eat me! Arghhhhhh!!!!!"
I returned to my tea. I do remember these sounds, voices of play, but I'd forgotten them. I'm so glad they're back. And even if it took a thousand lost dollars for me to appreciate what I now have, I consider it money well spent.
The computer has been broken for going on three weeks. They've all been "no screen days." But yesterday afternoon I sat down to have a cup of tea. No one was talking to me, no chorus of "I'm soooo bored!" but it was far from quiet.
I heard little voices - one at my feet. "Jabber jabber jabber." I don't know what Fish was saying, but it wasn't really him talking anyway. His Little People farmer was loading matchbox cars into the bed of a wagon. "Come on, everybody in, jabber jabber."
Another voice came from the dining room - a high-pitched shriek of "Noooooo!" But it was a quiet shriek. I went in to see St. Nick bent over a Lego contraption that looked startlingly like a medieval torture device. His little Lego man whisper-screamed again, "Don't eat me! Don't eat me! Arghhhhhh!!!!!"
I returned to my tea. I do remember these sounds, voices of play, but I'd forgotten them. I'm so glad they're back. And even if it took a thousand lost dollars for me to appreciate what I now have, I consider it money well spent.
In Praise of Plastic
I have seven toy catalogs stacked on the end table. Every year, about this time, we have stacks and stacks of them, but this year I couldn't quite figure out why these catalogs were making me so anxious.
And then I remembered - The Search for the Perfect Kitchen. Last year we got the kids one big gift of a kitchen and set of dishes and toy food (rather a disappointment for St. Nick, sorry bub). I put a lot of thought into it. Way too much thought. Of course it had to match, it had to be gender neutral, and it absolutely could not be plastic.
Because, as we all know, wood is so Durable! So Aesthetically Pleasing! So Natural!
So, we ordered a cute little kitchen and got grandparents to add a bunch of sets of Melissa and Doug wooden foods and dishes.
You know, a wooden turnip looks an awful lot like a baseball, except it hurts more when it hits you. And wood is painted. What happens to paintedbaseballs turnips when they're piled into a dump truck with toast and watermelon slices and oranges (or maybe those were tomatoes) and sausages (at least I hope they were supposed to be sausages) and backed to the top of the stairs, and then unloaded?
Last week I packed up all the hard, chipped wooden playthings. They're in the attic now. And over the weekend we picked up the biggest, cheapest set of plastic food and dishes we could find. Mud Pie and Little Fish love it. I love it too, though I'm giving the cardboard boxes of Hamburger Helper a week, tops. But, that's the best thing about plastic. So Lifelike! So Colorful! So Disposable! What could be better?
And then I remembered - The Search for the Perfect Kitchen. Last year we got the kids one big gift of a kitchen and set of dishes and toy food (rather a disappointment for St. Nick, sorry bub). I put a lot of thought into it. Way too much thought. Of course it had to match, it had to be gender neutral, and it absolutely could not be plastic.
Because, as we all know, wood is so Durable! So Aesthetically Pleasing! So Natural!
So, we ordered a cute little kitchen and got grandparents to add a bunch of sets of Melissa and Doug wooden foods and dishes.
You know, a wooden turnip looks an awful lot like a baseball, except it hurts more when it hits you. And wood is painted. What happens to painted
Last week I packed up all the hard, chipped wooden playthings. They're in the attic now. And over the weekend we picked up the biggest, cheapest set of plastic food and dishes we could find. Mud Pie and Little Fish love it. I love it too, though I'm giving the cardboard boxes of Hamburger Helper a week, tops. But, that's the best thing about plastic. So Lifelike! So Colorful! So Disposable! What could be better?
Delicious Sunday Blessings
Cinnamon Roll Cherry Cobbler is a new family favorite. Funny, I've had the recipe (Taste of Home) since 2003, but only just tried it a month ago! Following is my (altered) recipe and a guaranteed EASY version for this delicious treat. We're having it today for Sunday brunch, served with sausage and orange juice.
Cinnamon Roll Cherry Cobbler
Filling:
1 can (14.5 oz) pitted tart cherries OR 1 bag frozen pitted tart cherries, thawed (reserve juice)
1/2 C sugar
2 T cornstarch
1/2 C water
3 T red-hot candies
Cinnamon roll topping:
1 2/3 C flour
6 T brown sugar, divided
2 t baking powder
1/2 t salt
1/4 C shortening
1 egg, lightly beaten
1/4 C milk
1 T butter, softened
1/3 C finely chopped pecans
1/2 t ground cinnamon
Lemon glaze OR glaze:
1/2 c confectioner's sugar
1 T lemon juice (OR Milk for regular glaze)
Drain cherries, reserving juice. Set cherries aside and in small saucepan, combine sugar, cornstarch, water, and cherry juice. Heat until smooth. Stir in red-hot candies, boil until dissolved, 1-3 minutes. Stir in cherries. Transfer to a greased 8-in square baking dish.
In a bowl, combine the flour, half the brown sugar, the baking powder, and salt. Cut in shortening until crumbly. Combine egg and milk; stir into crumb mixture. Turn onto a flowered surface, kneading until workable. Roll into a 14-in rectangle. Spread with butter, sprinkle with pecans and cinnamon and remaining brown sugar.
Roll up jelly roll style from a short side and cut into 8 (or so) slices. Place cut-side down over cherry filling; bake at 400 for 25-30 minutes or until golden. Cool 10 minutes. Combine glaze ingredients and drizzle over top.
Easy version: 1 can of cherry pie filling and 1 package of refrigerated cinnamon rolls with frosting. I think assembly of the easy version will be pretty obvious!
Have a blessed day!
We Actually DID Something!
I often feel like the laziest of all homeschooling moms. We're a one-vehicle family, so I don't go anywhere during the day. And if I do drive Dr. D to work, the wildest adventure is the library. But then I forget that we do go places on the weekends. And sometimes the places we go are actually interesting! Or educational! Or both! Most interesting of late was a trip to Bowen's Mills (I'd link to the website but the layout is so horribly terrible that I'll spare you) on the weekend of a Civil War Reenactment. Never mind that we're not studying the Civil War right now. It was incredible! Below, some visual highlights.
Union soldiers. Mud Pie did NOT like the noise. At all.
Confederate soldiers.
The cider mill - with lots of bees. Again, Mud Pie was not impressed by the noisy machines. In fact, I'm trying to think what did impress Mud Pie and I'm drawing a blank. She has a fear of anything loud, dark, smelly ... garages, trucks, cars, animals (but not her brothers! Though they do meet the requirements).
Oh, the apples! She did like the apples. In fact, about all she did was clutch her apple and cry.
We all (with one exception) thought the covered bridge was cool.
And I love the costumes. Actually, I do think Mud commented on the "pwety dwess" once or twice.
But the warfare was the big hit for the boys. Not that I'm surprised ...
Hi, St. Nick!
Caption: "Should we take 'im out or shoot 'im in the stocks?"
"Time to clean up your act!" (Groan - that's soap, by the way. In case it wasn't obvious.)
My impression of the event was awe. I walked around googly-eyed, in love with everything. "This is SO COOL!" I remember saying a few times. St. Nick got bored (we discovered later that he had a nasty cold coming on), Little Fish was his usual along-for-the-ride self, and I already mentioned Mud Pie's reaction. I am certainly going to look for more of these events, and eventually, wouldn't it be awesome to participate? Talk about Living History!
Union soldiers. Mud Pie did NOT like the noise. At all.
Confederate soldiers.
The cider mill - with lots of bees. Again, Mud Pie was not impressed by the noisy machines. In fact, I'm trying to think what did impress Mud Pie and I'm drawing a blank. She has a fear of anything loud, dark, smelly ... garages, trucks, cars, animals (but not her brothers! Though they do meet the requirements).
Oh, the apples! She did like the apples. In fact, about all she did was clutch her apple and cry.
We all (with one exception) thought the covered bridge was cool.
And I love the costumes. Actually, I do think Mud commented on the "pwety dwess" once or twice.
But the warfare was the big hit for the boys. Not that I'm surprised ...
Hi, St. Nick!
Caption: "Should we take 'im out or shoot 'im in the stocks?"
"Time to clean up your act!" (Groan - that's soap, by the way. In case it wasn't obvious.)
My impression of the event was awe. I walked around googly-eyed, in love with everything. "This is SO COOL!" I remember saying a few times. St. Nick got bored (we discovered later that he had a nasty cold coming on), Little Fish was his usual along-for-the-ride self, and I already mentioned Mud Pie's reaction. I am certainly going to look for more of these events, and eventually, wouldn't it be awesome to participate? Talk about Living History!
Secret Sister
Taking a moment from three sick kids (one is still sleeping - miracle or what? Or, my more paranoid mind wonders, maybe he's not sleeping, maybe he's tying all his blankets together to escape out his window). Anyway, I had a flicker of a deep thought regarding the Secret Sister event going on through the Tapestry of Grace email list, but one of the kids (not sleeping) came up and asked me something and the other non-sleeper asked me something else, and, well, that happens. Bye-bye Thought! Was nice knowing you!
Now the sleeper is awake (he really WAS sleeping) and I hear water running in the bathroom. Really running. Considering he's three, this isn't so good. Better check it out!
9:36am - Little Fish was the one in the bathroom, armed with a toothbrush and a plastic cup. "But Mommy, I wanted to make a waterfall!"
Back to Secret Sister: This will be my first time doing something like this (we get assigned a "Sister" and pray for her for a time and get her a special Christmas ornament) and I'm very excited. But also a little nervous. Most of my prayer life revolves around, "God, help me mop up this water without YELLING AT ANYONE." Or, more typically, those groanings I'm expecting the Spirit to interpret. Am I really going to be able to fulfill this end of the contract? To pray for my Secret Sister? Regularly? And not count that "Arrrrrgh, Lord, you know I've been wanting to pray for her..." as good enough?
I better. I promised to. But, to my Secret Sister, apologies in advance. You got stuck with the weakest of all SSs, and I'm sorry. I'll do my best. But I will get you a cool ornament.
Now the sleeper is awake (he really WAS sleeping) and I hear water running in the bathroom. Really running. Considering he's three, this isn't so good. Better check it out!
9:36am - Little Fish was the one in the bathroom, armed with a toothbrush and a plastic cup. "But Mommy, I wanted to make a waterfall!"
Back to Secret Sister: This will be my first time doing something like this (we get assigned a "Sister" and pray for her for a time and get her a special Christmas ornament) and I'm very excited. But also a little nervous. Most of my prayer life revolves around, "God, help me mop up this water without YELLING AT ANYONE." Or, more typically, those groanings I'm expecting the Spirit to interpret. Am I really going to be able to fulfill this end of the contract? To pray for my Secret Sister? Regularly? And not count that "Arrrrrgh, Lord, you know I've been wanting to pray for her..." as good enough?
I better. I promised to. But, to my Secret Sister, apologies in advance. You got stuck with the weakest of all SSs, and I'm sorry. I'll do my best. But I will get you a cool ornament.
Blue Screen of DEATH!!!
BWAHAHAHAAA! It's appropriate that the scariest of all scary things happened in October.
Some background: I'm the "designated computer person" in our household. I set them up, I install programs, I do backups, I fix them when they break ... Except, I don't know anything about computers! And I don't even like them!
A little more background: Two-plus years ago my brother gave us a desktop computer (HE is a true computer person), one he'd refurbished from someone else. We liked it, St. Nick learned to use the mouse, he played Starfall. A lot.
But then the computer acted funny. I rebooted it. But it didn't boot (lame computer joke: Boot and Reboot went out in a boat; Boot fell in so who was left? Reboot...). I got a blue screen with an error message. Some, apparently important file was missing. Huh? Dear Brother talked me through reinstalling the operating system (when his other suggestions didn't work). And then I reinstalled the wireless card, the anti virus, the kids' software, the grown-up software. Sadly, we'd lost our tax files. Anyway, it took me about three days (there's a biblical parallel there, I know). And, we were back in the saddle for a month, until ...
It broke again. The blue screen again. I fixed it on my own this time. It took me a mere four-ish hours.
I did this three more times before finally unplugging the thing and giving it back to my brother.
Then we bought a brand new desktop, a Dell. So, now we're out of background and into the story (can you guess it?).
St. Nick is older now - six, not four - and he is good at getting around on the computer. Really good. And he's curious. Reeeeely curious. As soon as I caught him typing "butt" into the Google search bar, I changed the homepage. But it got worse. Mud Pie's two-hour nap became the "sacred hours;" the computer hours. Sadly, St. Nick was constantly, constantly shunning educational sites for arcade-style games. This made him over-stimulated and me loony, not to mention guilty. I took the navigation bar away, and emptied out the history, and I tried to institute "No Screen" days. But St. Nick is determined and an expert complainer. I'd offer to read to him; we'd do crafts. But he'd sit though the story (fidget through it, more like) or slap some paint on the paper, and he'd say, "Ok, I'm done. Can I use the computer now?"
I am a weak, weak woman.
What should happen last Friday? St. Nick and Little Fish were having a battle over whether we'd do Starfall first (for Fish) or Pharaoh's Tomb (hey! It's Egyptian! We studied Egypt! C'mon!) for St. Nick and I sent them both downstairs to, gasp, watch PBS. The computer had locked up during the skirmish, so I turned it off. When I went to turn it back on a while later, the blue screen. The "A Very Important File is Missing or Corrupt! Contact Your System Administrator Now!" screen.
My first response: "BUT I AM THE SYSTEM ADMINISTRATOR!" Horror, flashbacks, until I decided to box the thing up and take it to my brother. HE could fix the thing. After all, he owed me.
That problem solved, and "Sorry Bub, the computer's broken," message to St. Nick, I started thinking ... What if we didn't get it fixed? Or, rather, we got it fixed but gave it a new home, like in someone else's home? No more Starfall battles, no more "I'm BORED! I'm so B-R-D BORED!" when I turn it off. The solution seemed so simple. A financial loss, but we did get two year's use out of it. And we already had someone in mind who'd be eager to buy it.
My horror changed to gratitude. Not just for the Blue Screen of Death, but for all the blue screens (of death, I mean) I'd seen in the past two years. Without that aggravation and lost time (which is far worse for me than lost money), I would likely have seen this current crash as a blip on the screen. We'd have downtime; we'd be up and running again soon (I had the computer built with a second back-up hard drive, so all our settings and files are sitting there, waiting ...). But all those times of fixing and fixing and fixing just so the appetite of a six-year-old boy could be sated, well, it had turned me against the glorified game box. And that was the first step toward breaking free.
Really, it's me cackling, "BWAHAHAHAAAA!" Because, finally, we've vanquished you, computer monster!
Some background: I'm the "designated computer person" in our household. I set them up, I install programs, I do backups, I fix them when they break ... Except, I don't know anything about computers! And I don't even like them!
A little more background: Two-plus years ago my brother gave us a desktop computer (HE is a true computer person), one he'd refurbished from someone else. We liked it, St. Nick learned to use the mouse, he played Starfall. A lot.
But then the computer acted funny. I rebooted it. But it didn't boot (lame computer joke: Boot and Reboot went out in a boat; Boot fell in so who was left? Reboot...). I got a blue screen with an error message. Some, apparently important file was missing. Huh? Dear Brother talked me through reinstalling the operating system (when his other suggestions didn't work). And then I reinstalled the wireless card, the anti virus, the kids' software, the grown-up software. Sadly, we'd lost our tax files. Anyway, it took me about three days (there's a biblical parallel there, I know). And, we were back in the saddle for a month, until ...
It broke again. The blue screen again. I fixed it on my own this time. It took me a mere four-ish hours.
I did this three more times before finally unplugging the thing and giving it back to my brother.
Then we bought a brand new desktop, a Dell. So, now we're out of background and into the story (can you guess it?).
St. Nick is older now - six, not four - and he is good at getting around on the computer. Really good. And he's curious. Reeeeely curious. As soon as I caught him typing "butt" into the Google search bar, I changed the homepage. But it got worse. Mud Pie's two-hour nap became the "sacred hours;" the computer hours. Sadly, St. Nick was constantly, constantly shunning educational sites for arcade-style games. This made him over-stimulated and me loony, not to mention guilty. I took the navigation bar away, and emptied out the history, and I tried to institute "No Screen" days. But St. Nick is determined and an expert complainer. I'd offer to read to him; we'd do crafts. But he'd sit though the story (fidget through it, more like) or slap some paint on the paper, and he'd say, "Ok, I'm done. Can I use the computer now?"
I am a weak, weak woman.
What should happen last Friday? St. Nick and Little Fish were having a battle over whether we'd do Starfall first (for Fish) or Pharaoh's Tomb (hey! It's Egyptian! We studied Egypt! C'mon!) for St. Nick and I sent them both downstairs to, gasp, watch PBS. The computer had locked up during the skirmish, so I turned it off. When I went to turn it back on a while later, the blue screen. The "A Very Important File is Missing or Corrupt! Contact Your System Administrator Now!" screen.
My first response: "BUT I AM THE SYSTEM ADMINISTRATOR!" Horror, flashbacks, until I decided to box the thing up and take it to my brother. HE could fix the thing. After all, he owed me.
That problem solved, and "Sorry Bub, the computer's broken," message to St. Nick, I started thinking ... What if we didn't get it fixed? Or, rather, we got it fixed but gave it a new home, like in someone else's home? No more Starfall battles, no more "I'm BORED! I'm so B-R-D BORED!" when I turn it off. The solution seemed so simple. A financial loss, but we did get two year's use out of it. And we already had someone in mind who'd be eager to buy it.
My horror changed to gratitude. Not just for the Blue Screen of Death, but for all the blue screens (of death, I mean) I'd seen in the past two years. Without that aggravation and lost time (which is far worse for me than lost money), I would likely have seen this current crash as a blip on the screen. We'd have downtime; we'd be up and running again soon (I had the computer built with a second back-up hard drive, so all our settings and files are sitting there, waiting ...). But all those times of fixing and fixing and fixing just so the appetite of a six-year-old boy could be sated, well, it had turned me against the glorified game box. And that was the first step toward breaking free.
Really, it's me cackling, "BWAHAHAHAAAA!" Because, finally, we've vanquished you, computer monster!
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