Happy Halloween

Here we are – the Halloween couple gone country.  Mark is showcasing his usual cheery self… by the way, he actually put some of Neva’s white spray onto his temples announcing that  this meant he was in costume. Ha, like that would fool anybody into thinking his hair wasn’t turning white on it’s own! Sorry pal, but the beard gives it away.


It’s that time of year again. Mark has the Halloween music cranking through the house. We have over 8 hours of continuous Halloween music (without repeats) to play, thanks to years of collecting and organizing theme music for the dance school. Mark has put all our music onto his computer, so we have continuous play all the time now. Technology is amazing. This season, he omitted the Halloween techno, because it really isn’t all that nice an addition to easy listening, considering we are not using the music to teach jazz classes. What is left is the best of the best, all filled with mood and memories for us.

Of course, the music has him dancing through the house.

I was in the kitchen making pumpkin muffins and suddenly my husband spun by. A little kick. A Twirl. A Pas de bourree.

“What are you doing?”  I ask. You see, he was breaking the unspoken “no dancing allowed” rule. I gave him the lifted eyebrow (a look women perfect after years of marriage).

He said, “Aw. I can’t help it. It’s the music. I miss our friends this time of year.”

I let him keep dancing. Heck. I feel the same. I miss making my huge pumpkin buffet and making fun of our employees. (We demanded they dress up – then kidded them about it. May not have been fair, but it was fun.)

If we were having an open house like the old days, I’d be dang sure to make pumpkin wine somehow. At Halloween, I could force anyone to try anything. That time of year is like fear factor cooking for me, because I discovered my friends are daring enough to try things they wouldn’t normally consider tasting just because it’s Hollow’s eve. 

Mark is always in charge of the Halloween costumes. The kids announce what they want to be, then he get’s creative. I get to sip a cup of coffee and relax, waiting to see what comes out of the bathroom. I then get to clean the bathroom, but that is another (gross) story. This year, Neva wanted to be the bride of Frankenstein. Kent opted to go as baloney again (typecasting.) He is too old to put an effort into dressing up, but there is enough Hendry in him that he has to wear something.

Here in Georgia, we go downtown to historic Blue Ridge for the festivities. A thousand people walk the street while the businesses in town set up tables and give away candy. They have a costume contest, music playing and entertainment. We walk along greeting friends and laughing at the costumes as Neva fills her bag. Next, we stand in line for an hour to go to the haunted house in the fire station (5.00 a person goes to a fundraiser, so while the haunted house is somewhat lame, it is, nevertheless, worth the trouble.) We walk through a silly bunch of rooms lit with strobe lights and see our firemen and their families dressed like monsters and slashers. We dodge a fellow with the chainsaw and marvel at the little kids who stand there screaming all night long for effect. Certainly they won’t be able to talk in the morning. I got slammed in the face with water from a balloon that was supposed to be someone’s liver – the mad scientist threw it against a cage right at me. Yes, the humble sweet environment of the country has a new face on Halloween.

I must say, the family that won the Halloween costume contest made me jealous. Here they are. I saw them with their real donkey and hit Mark in the arm and said, “Now, why didn’t we think of that?”

I then announced that next year I would come as Lady Godiva on my new horse. Naked – but I have to grow my hair some first. Mark suggested I go the llama route and dress like a desert Sheppard or dress as weather vain and plunk one of my roosters on my head. I’m guessing he doesn’t think a girl my age can pull off the Lady Godiva thing without people wincing. Ah, I hate getting old.

We have friends from Florida visiting this week. They don’t have kids (yet) so I don’t think they fully appreciated the Halloween festivities, but I figure one day, when they have children, they will understand what compels parents to devote time and energy to such silliness. I’m just hoping that by the time my kids outgrow all this, we have grandkids – a perfect excuse to keep at it. I, for one, think Halloween is fun. Not a sophisticated or intellectual bone in the holiday’s body – and sometimes, the best things in life are just down to earth, purposeless nonsense that makes people smile.

Mark announced that next year, we should have a Halloween party. Break out the scads of decorations, cook up a storm, and show this town how to do Halloween right. It would be nice to build some Halloween memories here and maybe begin a new tradition. Of course, once we open the coffee house, we may be doing the halloween thing there, but I hope we do something somewhere. In the meantime, our house, situated as it is all alone at the far corner of 50 acres, still has music . . . and a weird looking lumberjack guy twirling through the rooms.