It's not even October yet, I know I shouldn't be thinking about halloween, but this week the weather got cold and weird. Let's face it, there's only one way for me to emotionally deal with the loss of summer, and that's with halloween. This week's random "high of 70" days was upsetting. I appreciate that my non-summer husband isn't so whiny about the weather, and it was kind of nice to take a flying lesson and not feel the sweat dripping down my back. But the pools are closed, the sweatshirt came out, I wore layers to work... so let's move on to the next thing shall we?

I went to the halloween store with my neighbors. Just last week @wichitacindy was talking about the perils of halloween stores... everybody comes in this time of year, browses, tries things on, but doesn't buy. And they'll be back in a month freaking out because there's no selection left. Well last night I did the same thing. Part of it was that I'd feel weird buying new halloween stuff when we don't even have our stash out yet.

And then there's the costume issue. Deep inside I adore some of the store-bought costumes I see, I feel like it's really stepping up for the occasion. I know I should be a good feminist and shake my head at the skank factor but I love being the hotness on halloween. I am disturbed that the costume skank factor clearly begins with the child costumes but that's another post.

The issue is that I feel obligated to show some creativity on halloween! Growing up we never had store-bought costumes, we always just made our own with whatever was around the house. Aluminum foil? I'm the tinman from wizard of oz. Dozens of socks? I safety-pinned them to myself, spun around and told everybody I was a car wash.

And of course there's my favorite halloween memory ever... the year I got cardboard boxes and talked my little sister into joining me to form a pair of dice. We painted and drew dots and were adorable, arms sticking out of the sides. Then a tragic stumble on a slanted driveway ended the fun. She tripped and landed front-first. The front of the box was, well, a box: flat, cardboard, and presented very little friction. With her arms sticking out of the sides she couldn't put her hands down to stop herself and slid all the way to the sidewalk, candy flying, screaming, everyone staring gap-jawed and getting out of the way because who knew what else she could take out?

I somehow doubt that's her favorite memory but when you're a kid and your little sister does something embarrassing and potentially dangerous the moment is zen. The universe stands still for you and everything is absolutely perfect.

So here I am, years later, still feeling like I have to work some magic into my costume. And I LOVE sewing, I love halloween fabrics, I love making short black spooky skirts and working layers of lightweight bat-printed of cloth wherever they'll fit. Buying a costume is fun too, but goes against the way I was raised! Maybe I'll buy one and make one?

I got my vote on yesterday, by mail. I got a robocall from Sam Brownback reminding me to send in my mail-in ballot, it was actually kinda sweet for a robocall, I listened to it and for a split second thought about voting for the guy. But then I didn't. I really assume (well, in this case know, in most cases assume) that republicans from Kansas are not looking out for my best interests at all at this point. In other states, I could easily be convinced to vote for a republican, because there are moderates there. Here? Not so much.

I also voted for Obama. I don't feel great about it, I always felt great voting libertarian because I was sticking it to the man. Now I feel like a sheep. I guess that's what presidential voting is all about? It's annoying to vote for a guy who could actually be president... if he screws up, I'm going to feel a tiny bit guilty and bad about it... even though Kansas will NOT be going to Obama. The saying here is that Kansas will go democrat when Hell goes Methodist.

In other news, we are having a huge halloween party Friday night so I've been getting ready for that... staging, decorating, getting my costume in order. ms a is coming over to help make jello shots. i bought halloween candy but marc pretty much killed the peanut butter cups already, dammit.

welcome coworker nessalc to the f-lists. I was giving him crap a few weeks ago about blogging on his own website like an elitist instead of coming over to livejournal and sharing like a different kind of elitist, looks like he heard me. that's a hint to this guy, by the way, who I know is reading but insists on being on blogspot still instead of livejournal where the cool kids are. blogspot actually has growing membership... who needs that? be a part of 2001's hottest online community: el jay. yeah!

Have yet to get a good picture of Marc and I on halloween... we were Inky and Blinky of pac-man fame. Nobody's managed to get the cool zig-zag hemming action. But they did manage to capture the idea that we are the cutest couple EVARR!!! I mean come on...



Sex and the City relationship picture caption: He looks sexy, and you look happy. Although now that I look at this some more, I look sort of drunk, too, which is a shame because I really wasn't, I behaved well this halloween.

there was a scary sound in the basement this morning, but marc and I decided not to see what it was because it's almost halloween and if life was a horror movie, we'd die. Sure, somebody in the audience would be yelling "oh shit don't go down there! no! no!" but we wouldn't hear them and the ____ would kill us and eat us. We know this, because we watch horror movies. And there's a formula for those things that teaches you exactly how your house would go down. Here's our story:

1) Marc would obviously get killed first because he's a minority. Everybody knows that white people survive at least the first thirty minutes, but others aren't so lucky. And please, he's even an indian! There's no reason to keep him around once he's warned us about whatever curse or legend we're going to blatently ignore (until it eats us).

2) I'd go second because it's pointless for a woman to stick around more than two or three scenes with no potential love interest. Also I'm the dark-haired, smart, scientific chick, nobody ever wants to see them last the full 90 minutes (apparently).

3) My roommate's boyfriend would go third. he's good comic relief and you'd have to feel bad for him, but he's not tall enough to be the hero.

4) Four: the dog. he'd be protecting my roommate (not us, trust me) and animal sacrifices really give people an emotional attachment to the plot.

5) Not sure if my roommate would survive this or it'd be all-out slaughter, but I'm guessing she'd survive because blood looks very dramatic on blonde hair. she'd have to do the final desperate stumble outside to see the army finally show up to (not) save us.

So that's why Marc and I stayed upstairs and let her go down and tell us it was just her intercom thing going nuts again. sure...