First, let me say that I don't care who you are voting for (I hope it's Obama.) as long as you are voting. Go to the damn polls tomorrow. I don't care how long the lines are, you have a right to vote and it is a right you need to use. Go vote and may the best man win. (And by that I mean Obama.)
But a few days ago was Halloween and in our house, this is a big deal. My wife plans for weeks ahead so that she can get a great "gruesome" dinner together. A meat loaf shaped like a severed foot (complete with blood and toenails), green mashed potatoes, a mummy calzone, gummy worm punch, bread sticks in the shape of leg bones, a pumpkin cheese ball, blood shot eyeball deviled eggs, the full nine yards.
Man, I love that woman.
Everything was not only tasty, but appropriately disgusting.
But before we sat down to the "feet loaf" etc., we had to go trick-or-treating. Now both my girls are pretty creative. I offer up Exhibit A, my oldest and her two friends who went dressed as a smore. Mine is the marshmallow.
Personally, I thought that was really good. I love it when people go off the beaten path and do something different. Going as a campfire snack is pretty darn funny, particularly when you have to use multiple people to make it work. And hey, they made the costumes themselves and had a great time.
Then there is my seven-year-old. It was several months ago when she declared that she knew what she was going to be for Halloween.
"Dad, I want to dress up as one of those ladies on the red carpet with an award. And I'll wear a sparkly dress and have an award and you and mom can take pictures just like they do at the Oscars."
The more she talked about, more I realized that she had the whole bit worked out. At every house, we were going to lay down a piece of red carpet and she was going to stride to the door, posing for the paparazzi, who would be me.
This is what it looked like.
And sure enough, at every house, I laid down the red carpet, and her little friend who came along would ring the bell. When the door opened, my little actress in her second-hand store gown would start strolling up the walk as I snapped shots with my old 35mm Pentax with a strobe flash and a telephoto lens.
Did I say every house? I meant it. Before every house, I'd say, "Are you ready for the bit?" And she'd say "Yep!" And every once in a while she'd ad lib half way up the carpet with things like "I'm ready for my close-up." Or "Thank you, Thank you!"
I think she decided that we had to do an act because the previous year, the whole family went as the Ghost Busters and one of my older daughter's friends went as the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man. When we walked up the street, a friend of my wife's blasted the Ghost Busters theme out the windows of her car.
(To read the story of that Halloween, I suggest you read this post from my wife's blog.)
Needless to say, she was a huge hit. Piles of candy came out of the hands of the neighbors this year. We actually had to go back and empty out the goodies sack and return to the streets because of the piles of candy she was getting.
At one door, a woman was on the phone talking to a friend when we came up the steps. She immediately started laughing and describing the scene to her friend on the other end of the line. Just as we were walking away, she came running out of the house to give the kids more candy and to tell us that we had the best costume of the year.
Did I say we? Well, she did. I was just a prop. Sure, I dressed a little. I have an old roadie vest that I got at a Morrissey concert when they were whipping stuff to the geeks like us in the front row. It has big pockets and I stuffed them with camera stuff and just snapped away at every house. Oh, and I carried the red carpet from door to door, but that was it. I was a bit player, she was the star.
Now the only question is, what the heck are we going to do next year? I guess I shouldn't worry. At some point next summer one of my daughter's is going to walk up to me and say, "Dad, I know what I want to be for Halloween this year..."