Sorry, I don’t care about Halloween very much. Not sorry, actually.
I’ve had a few good Halloween moments. For a college Halloween Party, I dressed up in a pink flannel onesie and donned matching rabbit ears, all sewn up in my dorm room. Some creep that I didn’t know was pestering me at the party, making me very uncomfortable, and one of my instructors from vet tech course came and sat beside me. When the obnoxious stranger asked, “Oh, is this your boyfriend?”, the chivalrous friend replied, “Yes, I am.”. So creepy guy went away, and the rest, as they say, is history. Said friend became my favourite person and my partner for many years, and father of our children.
A good party was hosted many years ago by my daughter Susan. After saying that I could not attend, I showed up as a witch, with a polymer clay warty nose crazy-glued to my own and a black wig, and nobody recognized me. If I hadn’t walked and talked, even Susan would not have figured it out. She held such a great bash, with sculpted cheese balls that looked exactly like human brains, and other wonderful edibles and drink.
I showed up in the same costume at the local bar a few years ago, and again nobody knew me, but I was not in a good emotional place and it just didn’t seem so fun.
Shelly came up with the idea of making Cinder some bat wings to wear for Halloween, so here you go:
I found a piece of lingerie, unused because it was too small, added fusible webbing and other fabric, cut the shapes, and fortified them with zip ties, and attached them to a tiny black dog harness (no wonder I hate to throw away anything … I usually have what I need to create stuff!). I thought I could make a little video of Cinder running with the wings flapping, but it would take more engineering to keep them on top of his wee body. He looks “put upon” enough as it is, don’t you think?
So I am sitting and chatting with you, my friends, after having taken care of the Pet Hostel guests and creating the bat wings. I’m listening to the one album of Tragically Hip that we own: often I don’t download music until an artist is dead or a band is defunct. I don’t know why. As I listen to the “Hip”, I feel so sad … now, only now, I really hear the lyrics and I didn’t in the past. As with Amy Winehouse, I didn’t realize how much I loved the music until it was … too late. Or in a sense too late. Luckily the music will live on, outliving all of us, adding to the legendary works of many.
There are other projects I can do today, various and sundry. I’m actually having fun “parting with” some clutter, and don’t miss anything. Well, perhaps the odd thing, but for the most part, I have sold, given away or sent away, articles that I will never miss or even wonder about again. I know the approximate monetary value of most items, though occasionally I am cautioned by well-meaning friends about getting rid of stuff. My own daughters and some others, including family members, have been given chances at these things.
A particular project that I wanted to tackle this winter (an overdue project) is to scan old photographs so that we will all have digital copies of most photos in my possession. I thought that this would be easy, as I’ve purchased an ordinary scanner and a specialty scanner for negatives and slides. It’s not easy … the scanner doesn’t scan as well as I’d thought it would, and doesn’t send unfailingly and wirelessly to the desktop computer. I can’t connect it directly because I haven’t been able to load the “drivers” to the old boat-anchor computer. It’s a challenge after all.
At the Pet Hostel, we have Shelly’s dogs Seltzer & Maya, and Ghost, Eirwen, T.J. & Jasper, Dexter & Jazzmin, and Tilly too. The indoor-outdoor runs are all in use, but Tilly needs a covered run and resides in our outdoor run that has such a lid. We have to be big on security, and Tilly sealed her own “fate”, if you will, by jumping over 6 foot fences indoors and out.
Will go pick a project now, after I finish this beautiful Oso Negro decaff coffee. Hope you all have a lovely day, and a Happy Halloween if you observe the occasion.