Ah, Sweet Tradition, the Halloween Coma

Once a year I eat myself sick. Sweetly seriously sick.

Helloooo Halloween!

My favorite “holiday.” At 59, I’ve loved it as much as I did when I was 35, 15, 5. If I’m venturing out, I dress up in a costume created if not partly then entirely by moi.

My mother told me long ago that when my sister and I were young, she, mom, offered to take us to the dime store for costumes but we always insisted on making them.

Some things never change!

In my town, Mount Vernon Avenue is Halloween on Steroids. An amazing avenue it is. So much so that kids come by the busloads from outlying areas, especially Phoenix, hours away, just to participate.

An estimated 5,000 people descend on historic and moneyed Mount Vernon for over-the-top decorations befitting stately homes and oak-lined streets that scream Halloween.

The candy. Ohhhhhh the candy! Along those several spooky city blocks, each resident spends HUNDREDS of dollars on candy! Some even hand out full-sized Snickers!

It’s a diabetic’s worst nightmare and a sweet tooth’s wet dream.

I don’t eat much sugar. The sweet tooth of my youth is pretty much bye-bye.

But on Halloween, I make an exception. I costume up and trick-or-treat. The Mount Vernon residents don’t care whether you’re 3 or 33 or 93! Sweets for all!

I raked it in, needless to say. In one night, collected more candy than I eat in a year.

Then I ate it. In a night.

Not ALL of it, mind you. I’m a picky eater, especially with sweets.

What I don’t go for on Halloween:

Fruities. Chewies. Anything endangering my zillion dollars of dental work! Hard candies. Suckies. The likes of lollipops.

What I go for:

Most Americana chocolates, excluding waxy Hershey’s. Milky Ways. Snickers. 3 Musketeers. Butterfingers. REESE’S PEANUT BUTTERS!!!

I pig out ’til I feel kinda woozy. Rest. Then eat more.


Like the Romans at their Gluttony Fests.

To be honest, it’s not really FUN. It’s tradition.

Dating back to my late 20s. I worked in an office a stone’s throw from an old Woolworth’s, where you could buy candy corn by the pound.

REAL candy corn. Brach’s. There is no other!

So I’d buy a pound. Bring it back to my desk and dedicate the day to a Sugar High courtesy of candy corn. One day a year. I’d eat until I was in a metaphorical coma.

Then I wouldn’t touch it ’til Halloween the next year. And the next.

Here in my senior years, I can no longer inhale sugar like that young pro. It’s been ages since I’ve pigged out on candy corn.

BUT I can still put it outta the fire with the right chocolates!

In the spirit of tradition. In honor of Halloween.

And what of the suckers, Starbursts and sour balls, oh my!

Fear not! Nothing goes to waste. Only waistlines.

A local dentist invites the community to bring their leftover Halloween candy to his office.

Then he ships it to military men and women serving overseas. Volumes of candy. At his expense.

How cool is that?!

So you see, my Halloween gluttony ain’t entirely self-serving. Peel back the wrapping for a peek at my patriotism.

However, as with any military venture, there IS that line drawn in the sand: No touchee the Reese’s!


All Hail All Hollow’s Eve!

It’s baaaaaaaaaaaaaaack!! It’s heeeeeeeeerrrreee!

My most favorite holiday of the year!

A savory sonnet for the sweets who visit:


Of green ghouls, red goblins and monsters beware

in shadows and in light, they lurk everywhere.

You shall not know them by the sight of your eyes

rather sharp chills tingle-tingling up your spine

So go on, peer under the bed — if you do dare.

Knock knock, open the closet — is someone there?

Of one last ghastly beast be warned, must I say

The coma of 10 too many Milky Ways.


May Bewitching Mojo Be With You.

Happy Halloween from me and Berr Symon.

Berr Symon shares a Halloween cupcake

Berr Symon shares a Halloween cupcake

Halloween monsters: Not where you think they are!

It shrieks. It shouts. It emits high-pitched screams that’ll curdle your blood and make your ears bleed.

You’re not at a haunted mansion on Halloween. But at the cafe down the street!

Every day is Halloween in the United States of America! Inconsiderate self-absorbed parents and mannerless kids are allowed to roam the streets and fill public spaces without license.

They’re free to wreck havoc on furniture, introduce mayhem to once-serene places and run amok under the adoring eyes of parents, grandparents and their friends.

‘Tis a world gone mad! An asylum run by the inmates! A generation of babies and youths pampered and spoiled and given everything they could possibly need and want — to excess. With never having learned to lift a finger or, sadder still, the value of working for anything.

Work is its own reward. And a dying — speaking of Halloween — art.

In these social horrors that surround us all in America, I’ve one body to thank. Without Pandora, I would not remain the sane person I am!

You see, many is the occasion when, like tonight, a child’s boundless shrieks have ricocheted off walls of a cafe, pierced my ears and caused aural hemorrhage.

Too, many is the occasion when I’ve looked point-blank at the parents in the eye. And they do nothing but continue bathing their out-of-control noisy creatures in adoring light.

Last but not least, many is the occasion when I’ve hastened through a meal or coffee, packed up the laptop early and bolted, with one last glare shot their way. But they very rarely notice. If they happen to, they don’t care.

Then sometimes, bridled by desire to finish up some project on the laptop, I plug in the lil’ earbuds that pair with my iPhone, load up Pandora, crank the volume to full and partially — only partially — drown out the monster and permissive “parents.”

A Band-Aid solution to what ails our society? Sure it is.

Yet as Halloween reminds of the monsters and the angels treading upon and encircling our Earth, too a visit to a public eatery.

The monsters be the little brats, bigger those who spawned them. And Pandora be the angel. Holy goons and ghouls, Batman! We live in a decrepit decaying society!

There’s one silver lining in the cloud. Always is. Blessed be that we not be vampires condemned to an eternal earthly existence.

Now THAT’d be a Halloweenish terrifying nightmare surpassing all indeed!

A boooooooootiful day to cast away

It’s just around the corner, my favorite holiday of all. Halloweeeeeeeeen!

The time of year when the veil’s between Here and There’s paper thin. The time when goblins, ghosts, witches, wizards can come out and play and mingle with (mere) mortals without fear of reprisals like hangings and fires.

It’s the time to dress up and be whoEVER you wanna be for a day and a night. To channel your buried inner self  or perhaps a self from a previous incarnation.

Halloween is the time of folklore and fantasy. Of spirit and spookiness. Of mojo and magic and mystery.

Sooooo, for the past month or so, I’ve had my eye — not of a newt — on this beloved day.

This year it falls on a Saturday. Great for the trick-or-treaters and parents and partying — if that’s how you roll — conjuring, casting spells or staring silently into a single candle flame and stating your prayers.

I’ll be at work that evening. Though part of me’s sad to be missing the celebration, I’m OK with that. I like that job. I’d be there double my 11 hours a week if I could!

The holiday won’t entirely pass me by. There IS a station cat who keeps me company! Not black. Still, I’ll take it. 🙂

However, I’ve also got a second PT job, like most Americans, those lucky enough to have employment, that is.

I fairly detest that job. No need to articulate the many reasons why. I’d drop it in a heartbeat — less than! — if something better came along. (I am looking …)

Saturdays are my double shifts. I go from the job I detest to the job I love. Makes Saturdays loo0ong — about 12 hours in committed time to both.

Fine when you’re 23. At 58, it’s a bit harder.

More importantly, the job I detest sucks the life outta me. Not in good vampire style. Despite the ill effects, I’ve consented to work the double Saturday shifts because I need the money. And the work.

After going back and forth back and forth back and forth, weighing the benefits and detriments of the double Saturdays … after consulting with a very gifted intuitive on my tentative decision to drop Saturdays at the shit job … and after having that non-newt eye on the approaching Halloween … I decided:

No more.

No more Saturdays at the yuck job. Starting on Halloween, officially.

To an average person, this decision would be hardly newsworthy.

However, I’m far (far far!) from average. I’m an incredibly hard worker, by nature, with slave issues. And endurance issues. Poverty issues and value (as in personal value and worth) issues.

Most of all, I have survival issues. It’s complicated but part of why I hang onto things I hate or are no good for me. When the alternative (death) is worse, you keep what you have and do WHAT YOU HAVE TO DO TO SURVIVE.

Without creating bad karma.

Hence the loathsome Fry’s job.

Halloween is HAPPINESS! Halloween is joy. If you’re going to release that which shackles you, if you’re going to stretch for shapeshifting — for me, that means a little more freedom and creativity in life — what better day than … Halloweeeeeeeennnnnn?!?

So yes, that night, you won’t see me howling at the moon (rather, running a radio board). However, my heart will be howling! Reaching for a treat –one liberating step away from that which I tolerate (barely!) — and casting off the (double-shift) trick.

Hallelujah, Halloween!

A boooooootiful day to cast away … and to pray.