Poor Dog

Shadow Doesn't Like His CostumeI bought Shadow a Halloween costume. Every woman I mentioned this to said, “How cute.” Every man that heard about it said, “Poor dog.” I guess Shadow, who was once a he but now suffers the indignities of being an it, wasn’t excited about being Batman.

Halloween was uneventful at our house. I think the doorbell rang 10 times. Bob is the door answerer because he likes to do it and says dopey things like, “Ooh, what a scary ghost.” For some reason I hate doing this. Yeah, opening the door to strangers who knock and want something. I don’t like it. Especially around 8:00 there’s always a group of teenagers who aren’t remotely ashamed when you suggest that maybe they’re a little old for this.

I distinctly remember my last year trick-or-treating, which was probably 8th grade, and we got a lot of grief for being too old. I’m trying to come up with some epic Halloween tale from my youth but I’ve got nothing. My only remark is that the candy was bigger. For real, not some idealistic memory like “When I was a girl the weather was better and people were nicer and unicorns frolicked on the back lawn.” A mini candy bar was at least three good bites. Sweet tarts came with 4 nickel sized candies (possible exaggeration). Even the Tootsie rolls were bigger and I think there was more variety.

Okay, on the variety thing, I’m full of crap. I have no idea what kind of loot the kids are raking in. But from the person shopping for candy point of view: it all looks like chocolate to me.

In honor of NaBloPoMo, I’ve turned comments on. I think. I’m too lazy to read the directions and not sure how it works so I suspect I’ll get nothing but porn spam. But at least I’m trying. If you’re not a NaBloPoMo blogger you can also participate by leaving a comment a day.

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