“oh shit it's shit” ― Stephen King, Different Seasons

You know how you run and run and run and you're always doing and when you finally stop to catch your breath, things around you are all different? No? Just me?

I've been soooo very busy. What with joining a band, and the radio show, and being a minister and the 40 hour a week job and the wife and the fuzzy kids. (not in order of importance, of course)

Now spring is upon us. Well...in upstate NY that means something very different from most. We have had 3 days of blowing, bitter snow and wind. Today it's stopped and tomorrow it's suppose to be 70 degrees. If I ever wondered why I developed seasonal allergies....duh!

Sometimes I think about taking a class on meditation. But I just can't sit still long enough. It would do me good, I know that. But really, who has time? I barely have the time to stop and look around me. Seeing how time is starting to change me physically. I'm not alone. Looking at my classmates on facebook and trying to see those kids of the 80's through grey hairs and gravity. I make the mistake of using the magic magnifying mirror. It's a horrifying lesson in 'time marches on'.

Friends come and go, the changing of the guard. Some friends are moving on to parenthood, which always means us childless couples get left behind a bit, in a cloud of protesting it's not going to happen and "folks with kids" on the other end. There is always the tiny cracks in the relationship that happen. Then there is the chasm that can never be crossed again.

Been there done that.

Changes....Every year the snow melts away and green shoots through the frozen earth and every year it amazes me. Rebirth. The mysteries of mother earth. She survives another season.

I'm doing my part with my electric car. 7,000 miles with no gas and no exhaust. A red Leaf, a white Leaf, a black one, seen around town. Catching on? Maybe. We have to start somewhere, don't we? Small steps.

Less bullets to kill the kids. That's a small step that would change so much.

A court that proclaims that all people are equal and religion has no place in our constitution.

A family copes with new dynamics, once a piece is missing. Growing pains?

Changes....baby steps towards change.

Maybe I don't have to stop too long, if the changes are small. I can pause, look, and keep moving on. Nothing else is stopping. Why should I?

"Fox News Stole My Mom!" ~Cabrina

I'm a small percentage. I had parents who were supportive and encouraging and loved to take part in all my crazy ideas.

The hours they spent listening to the squawk of my clarinet lessons, the money spent on tickets to plays I flexed my theatrical muscles in, and the time spent standing on a corner waiting for me to march in a parade dressed as a lumberjack. They put in their time more than most my friends folks.

I had pretty swell parents. My friends all wanted to come to my house after school. I had a mom, raised by 50's ideals and formed by the tumultuous times of the 60's and 70's. I had a dad, who was headed down the wrong path and put himself right through the military and becoming a "self made man", unafraid of hard work and getting his hands dirty.

Together they raised three strong, independent, smart women who are beloved by their friends and praised for their honesty and loyalty.

In other words....my conservative parents created liberal children.

And with the country, overwhelmingly voting in Obama for another 4 years, my mother has gone off the deep end. Much like her conservative pals, who have forgotten that no liberals succeeded from the union when Bush Jr got in for another 4 years, is having a temper tantrum of amazing proportions!

My youngest sister, who lives with my mom in CA, reports to me about how mom is going to sell the house and move to Texas and become it's own country. (she won't get on a plane to visit me in NY, so my sisters and I are pretty comfy knowing she won't get any further than about an hour away on her own.)

Sigh......

I'm going through kind of a health scare right now. And even at 45 years of age, needing your 'mommy' still kinda creeps in. Especially when you had a GREAT mom! You never wanted for anything when you were sick in my childhood home. Juice? yes. Toast in quarters with honey? Done! Grilled cheese and cream of tomato soup? You bet! Clean sheets after a warm bath? The best.

Now I find myself waiting for a call that doesn't come for hours after my procedure cuz my mom was changing her money into foreign currency so Obama couldn't take it from her.

I got more news yesterday that the procedure they did didn't work, so now on to more drastic methods. My childhood mom would have been calling me every day to check in. My Neo-Con mom not only didn't call, but told my youngest sister that she never knows anything cuz no one calls her cuz she's a horrible mother.

What do they say about self fulling prophecies?

“Everyone thinks of changing the world, but no one thinks of changing himself.” ― Leo TolstoyS

We're getting new siding for the house. While this a good thing. This is a "must do" thing. This is the kind of thing that's going to add insulation to the house and bring down the heating bills for winter.

They are doing it the week before Halloween. THEE WORST time for them to do it.

So I won't be able to put up any decorations. They will be stomping around where the grave yard goes. Pulling off the siding that the cobwebs attach to. They will be covering the bushes the peeping eyes peer from.

Disappointing? You bet cha. Maddening? Hellz ya!

I'll have to just decorate the inside, but the knowledge that I've been hamstrung by this home improvement is a serious ding to my motivation.

Boo

Worst Halloween evah

“Blessed is he who expects nothing, for he shall never be disappointed.” ― Alexander Pope

There is this small window, where the Halloween stuff starts to trickle into the marketplace. The William Sonoma Collection, Michael's and the holy grail: Martha's mag finally hits the shelves.

Well....I gotta tell ya....I'm already a lil disappointed. And that doesn't bode well for my favorite holiday.

Martha's Mag was a re-tread of all her "greatest hits". Thanks for phoning it in, Stewart!

The cornerstone of my Halloween inspiration, a locally owned costume shop called Daugherty's, relocated to a mall and about one quarter of their floor space. What use to be a maze of wigs and costumes of theatrical quality and rooms of rubbery faces and forms is no more. They even had a giant gargoyle standing guard outside their stoney, castle like facade, setting the mood from the first steps through the front door. But now, the life sized ghouls and floating phantoms are lost to downsizing. Not to mention the mall air that tends to drain one of any Halloween spirit.

So you can imagine my horror when I looked up the ONLY Spirit of Halloween store they allowed to open in my area this year, and it was smack dab in the middle or our OTHER mall in town.

Ok...I can work with this. This mall is in the midst of a be re-do and there is a section that is open beams and creepy corners. I can see Spirits zombie display a midst the raw 2x4's covered in wispy spider webs.

This could work.

But alas.....there it stood, in the old CompUSA store, in all it's bright, florescence glory. Nothing but costumes. No Frankenstein's reach. No zombie's growl. No spirit alive at Spirits.

sigh.......

" Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower." ~Albert Camus

There is a moment when the air is just a lil crisper. Smokey fumes curl through the bright blue skies. The tips of the trees appear to be dulling, just a lil. And the word on the street brings a pulse to my heart that makes it skip a beat: Pumpkin Spice is at Dunkin Donuts.

I had thee most perfect pumpkin latte yesterday for breakfast. It was hot and sweet and pumpkin-y. It's the indicator that we are entering into my favorite time of year. The season that I missed out on for 30 years of my life, living in Southern California.

Most the time, when we started back to school in the beach cities, you couldn't even wear your school clothes. It was still too damn hot! There was never a time where I kicked my feet through amber, orange, yellow and blood red leaves. You could go pumpkin picking in your shorts, if you wanted. And there were NO $1 pumpkin patches where I grew up. Although you won't find those much now either. We would pay HUGE prices for a big pumpkin. And never did we go to an actual patch, wandering the vines for the perfect squash.

My dad would get the biggest one out of the "patch" (re: over priced nursery). His job was to make the scariest pumpkin. I would usually make the most interesting face. My sisters more traditional triangle eyes and smiles. Then there is my mom. She would find the oddest shaped pumpkin and then try to make it into something. One year she scored a long, oval, dark green pumpkin, she laid on it's side, and it became a school bus.

Yes...I said a school bus. I don't get my creativity off the wind ya know.

There is just something about the tradition of the pumpkins that represent the fall season for me. Even on my trip to visit, my now wife, for my first October on the east coast, sealed the deal of my moving from my seaside home. We picked pumpkins and carved them, went apple picking. (it was the most amazing thing to pluck a delicious apple from a branch and eat it on the spot) and got fresh cider pressed on the spot. And you could keep things on the porch, cuz it was cool enough!

It was like my own lil autumnal Disney World! I fell in love. Halloween has always been my favorite holiday, but to be wrapped in east coast autumn only makes it even better.

"You know, a long time ago being crazy meant something. Nowadays everybody's crazy.". ~Charles Manson

The world seems to be going crazy! I know it makes me sound old, when I can't seem to wrap my head around what the hell is going on around me. I'm one fist shake out the window and "You pesky kids got off my lawn!" from being Mrs. Kravits.

But how else can I feel?

Men on the tv telling me that there is a "nice rape" and a "forcible rape". That my body has ninja warrior secretions that can kill "criminal sperm" when it enters my body. (Where the fuck did these idiots go to school and how did they get elected?)What I can and can't do with my girly bits, cuz they say so.

Tell ya what...if they put you in jail for flipping through your fetish mags, sitting behind the locked door of your senate office, in your secretaries underwear, jerkin your gerkin and spilling millions of possible babies all over the floor...then we'll talk.

Why do old, rich, white men think they can tell women what they have a right to do with their own bodies? It makes my head feel like it's going to split open with insanity.

Last night, the wife and I, had just got done OD'ing the Maddow and the likes, and went up to bed. There was our 15 year old cat, Ringo, falling all over the floor. Usually I'm the first one to react, and dive into the throws, to fix the situation. I stood in the hall, flapped my hands by my sides and repeated like maniac, "Oh my god...what do we do....what do we do?"

A trip to the ER vet, many sheets of itemized potions and screenings, and Ringo is STILL there today. True to her nature, confusing those around her by making them think outside the box.

So I sit at work, going a little out of my mind: can't really do anything, can't get any answers from the vet, can't go see her, can't go home.

"We'll call....."

Ok...I'll be here....going a lil nutty in my four walls. I've waited 10 years for my own office and now I feel like a moth inside a Ball preserves jar, batting around, senseless and without cause.

At the height of my self proclaimed crazy session, I turn to the one place that I can escape, that brings me joy, that makes me smile: HALLOWEEN. Life has been so busy, I'm behind on pumpkinrot.com. There, among the wonder and magic that is the 31st of October, 365 days a year, is the William Sanoma holiday link.

I think a frivolous purchase of cauldron mugs, during a time when my vet bills are choking me, would be just insane enough, to make me feel, a touch, less crazy.

Human nature is above all things lazy. ~ Harriet Beecher Stowe

I don't even like most the games they play in the Olympics. But there is something so strong that compels me to get a bowl of ice cream, camp on the couch in my BirkenCrocs and sit like a slob and watch amazing athletes grapple for gold.

What is it about the Olympics?

I saw, for the first time, competitive trampoline. It was the GREATEST thing EVAH! Handball....sucks. It's silly. Handball is for Al Pacino in a prison yard. One rubber ball and the hard concrete of his prison walls. That's handball people.

Dressage. Can't bare to watch it. In no other sport if the athlete breaks a leg, do they take them out and shoot them.

Gymnastics is one of those sports that none of us knows nothing about, but you watch a routine and say, "Oh mah gawd that was perfect!" and we are usually right. I also almost pass out from holding my breath cuz I just know they are going to end up with that wooden beam in their tender girly bits and it's going to H-U-R-T!

OK....volleyball I know a lil about. I'm from California so I'm partial to the beach v-ball, no doubt. We had a sand v-ball court at our high school for bejuzuz sake! And how can you not watch Misty and Kerri play for their last time and 3-pete?!?!

You have to get into it.

Everyday I can barely get out of bed to shower, make my coffee, walk the dog and head to work, again. Over and over, my personal ground hog day. To take the time out to watch beautiful bodies in motion doing one thing so perfectly, it's inspiring.

To compete on the world stage, even without the red menace to push us anymore, is still the drive that makes America great. The tearful movement of the anthem playing, the flag raising it moves us.

Pride and perfection. It's a designer drug that never goes out of style.

Birth and death; we all move between these two unknowns. ~Bryant H. McGill

It's ironic. I can see that. The day that hits me the hardest, since my dad has died, is the day of his birth.

I just spent a week in CA cleaning out 'stuff' in my mom's 'barn'. It's really not a barn. There is not one chicken or cow paying rent. It's really barn shaped garage. One that held the RV they were traveling in when my dad passed.

Now the RV is at a consignment lot, waiting for the winning bid on ebay. A curse and a blessing for my mom, I'm sure. Some of her happiest moments were traveling all over the US with my dad in that rig. But it's where he started feeling ill, suddenly. After a fun day with their traveling group.

Within 24 hours he was gone.

She wouldn't leave the RV until we had someone that would get it back home for her. How could anyone ask her to leave it behind. At that point my mom seemed like a lil girl who had left her favorite stuffed toy and didn't want to go till we found it for her.

Now the space in the barn, that the RV filled, as life continues to move forward, is finding substitutes quickly

My sister's move to England has filled space where the RV bedroom was. A car takes the place of the kitchen and bathroom. A patio set stacked neatly where my mom and dad would sit, side by side, miles of road passing under that 'rock star' size rig.

We cleaned and hauled and stacked stuff up. The Goodwill scheduled to come in two weeks and back a truck up to collect it. Things from before I was born, stashed away by my dad. And now what? Where does it go? Why can't we let it go? Why should WE keep it any longer? What would we ever do with it?

I started thinking about all the crap in my house. Who will sweep out the years of collecting when I'm gone? And they most certainly will look at it and say, "What am I suppose to do with it?" Maybe, just like me, they will feel that pull in their heart that says, "But why can't I throw it out?"

To grasp one last time at the physical, as the mental memories slip away every day. How did he use to smile? That lil chuckle he had....how did it go exactly?

Sand....draining from my hand, one grain at a time. Leaving nothing but the soft, dusty, residue clinging to my moist palms. It reminds, me my fist was filled to capacity, only moments ago.

Happy birthday dad. Your 'presence' are still in the barn.

Clocks slay time... time is dead as long as it is being clicked off by little wheels; only when the clock stops does time come to life. William Faulkner

Time flies. During the in between. Where my favorite holiday is still too far off to even start dreaming of what fun things to create (not really, but I can't admit it or my wife thinks I'm insane). I try to busy myself with other things.

And busy I have been.

Life is at full speed ahead and all I'm trying to do is strap in and hold on.

My office is moving to a new location, and I'm excited at the thought of 'walls'. I've always been out in the middle of everything. Try and make a doctor's appointment for your girly bits, you'll find it is impossible. A door will be a welcome change.

I'm hoping to also decorate in football noir. I want to finally put my jerseys in cases and find a shelf for my helmet from the glory days on the grid iron. I'll dust them off and bring them up from my treasure trove (re: basement)

The new location is swanky. I'll tell you that! Polished floors, gleaming marble and granite. It's a step up and a distance away. I've been spoiled by my 3 mile drive to work. My Nissan Leaf very happy as well, with a small jog to and from. I'll have to plan accordingly if I need to get somewhere after work or during lunch.

I've insisted on an outlet by my parking space. I mean...come ohn! If you're going to have an employee who is trying to save the world on her own, the least you can do is put a plug in, right?

The wife's job, or 3 of them, keeps her busy and me holding a picture of her in my wallet to remember what she looks like. The animals run the house and destroy it a lil more everyday. (a whole other blog will be coming from that)

And in an effort to keep my sanity, I shall return to blogging. It's an outlet, no doubt. If nothing else, a fine way to count the in between days till the return of my burning grin.

"An artist is a creature driven by demons. He doesn't know why they choose him and he's usually too busy to wonder why." ~William Faulkner

The problem with trying to keep a blog is NOT keeping up with the blog. Then you find that there are too many topics to blog about and where does one even start?

Politics? Don't EVEN get me started! Where are we going and why am I in this hand basket?

The economy? While it looking up, I'm too broke to pay attention.

Work? I've been very busy with very little pay off in my commissions lately. And that makes momma angry.

My blog, for a long time was a place to come and spout my silly ramblings and vent my issues an I felt better. I didn't care who dropped by to see, if anyone did at all. It for me, about me, me me me. And I ask, "What's wrong with that?"

Nothing.

I guess, to cut through to the core of the matter, I don't have time for 'ME' anymore. Otherwise I would be on here shouting and stomping and kicking up dust. Maybe I would feel better if I did that. Maybe I would feel lighter and less burdened by thoughts that have no where to go than round and round my empty skull.

So a vow to myself - more blogging. More brain dumping. More letting my thoughts run free.

A man growing old becomes a child again. ~Sophocles

WOW! I flipped my calendar today and low and behold - February. I turn 45 next week.

Sigh.

I was told when I was a young thing that the older you got, the faster time sped along. Too true. Time is a blur now so I can only imagine what the next 20 years will be.

I caught Oprah's Masterclass with Jane Fonda the other night. (when you get my age you start watching things like Oprah's Masterclass) I found it fascinating. From the camera angles, to the cut-aways, to the casual feel that she was talking to the viewer. I know the older generation despises "Hanoi Jane". I found her charming and amazing during her interview. And it was so interesting to see where she had come from: her mother committing suicide and her distant father who could never really love her after that.

One of the points that stuck with me was her thought that our life is broken into thirds and she was entering into her final third, at 74 years old. I really shortened up our timeline for me. Instead of thinking of 80 individual years, if your lucky, it shrunk it down to just three wedges of time.

While I'll be smack dab in the middle of my second 'wedge' of time, my father had just started his third section when he died suddenly. And his mom, who just passed, had stretched her final third for all it's worth, at 98.

I'm at the age where the drinking age is flashed on cards with the DOB in '91 and it doesn't seem possible. Babies are being born around me by babies themselves. I think where I was in my last 20's and children weren't even a consideration for me.

Full families in their first third.

Time marches on. That's for damn sure. Sometimes it feels like it marched right over me and didn't even notice. So buckle up, put on a helmet and hold on. It only speeds up from here.

"Opportunity is missed by most people because it is dressed in overalls and looks like work." ~Thomas Edison

I had to brush out the cobwebs and there was a homeless guy living in the entrence to my blog page.

Ok...it's been a while. A long while. I admit.

Holidays, new car, the passing of my grandmother, another Christmas without my dad, staying home for the holiday for the first time in 15 years and not being re-newed by the radio station after four years....

I've been busy.

My Leaf is a dream come true. Let's start with that. Runs great. Fun to drive. And I just love the look on folks faces when it dawns on them I never have to stop for gas again. Then the double shock that I never have to pay for another oil change or air filter, EVER AGAIN!

It's pretty spectacular, really.

Every time I start it up it's a shock to my system what I've done. Yes, it's on the pricey side, but when you think of the savings, it's really kinda equal. If you want to add the notoriety factor, being the only person in upstate NY to own an EV (electric vehicle), then that's a bonus!

The first question, guaranteed, is, "What if you run out of juice?" To which I have to ask them, "When was the last time you ran out of gas?" I have a charging station on the house now as well, that can 'fill up' the car in about 4 hours to 80% of the battery. (the suggested amount to keep the battery life mean and lean)

It doesn't like the cold tho. This weekend the temps hit 4 degrees and the wall charger wasn't having any of it. Luck for me the trickle charger, that you can plug into any 120v outlet, worked just fine and EVa, as I've named her, didn't miss a beat.

I'm sure as the adventure continues, there will be more about the car. I welcome questions as well. So let me have it. I've been learning as much as I can, since I had to wait since July 2010 to get this durn thing.

A new year and a new chance to kick my blogging back into gear. Until next type....

"Pooh-pooh to the Whos!" ~ The Grinch

I avoided a LOT of the holiday crush by shopping on line this year. I love that. No...really....I love shopping on line, cuz then it's like xmas when all the packages get delivered to me weeks before xmas. Yes, I know they aren't for me. But I actually like shopping for others, rather than receiving gifts for myself.

No, I'm not going for "most self-less act during the holiday season" award. I just really relish the challenge of buying something for someone that, when the open it, they have a tremendous reaction.

I can't tell you how many times, in my youth, I got stuff that was crap. There...I said it! It took me 40 years, but I've admitted it publicly. And this taught me that you need to make an effort when you buy. The following are examples that, not only scared me for life, but taught me to shop kindly:

There was a macrame belt weaving kit. Really. You can't make this up.

Magic sand that you poured under water and it never got wet. When they tell me I have cancer, years down the road....I'll blame that feckin' magic sand!

The Ant farm. NOTHING good comes from keeping bugs in your home and treating them like pets. Tiny ants came in from outside and actually killed the colony and made the 'farm' their summer residence.

A hamster. Ok....yes...I wanted it. I wanted it bad. And I loved it. But when you buy something that is 'food' for a larger animal, they are not meant to live long and it died a horrible death that was oozy and icky.

So during this holiday season, as you swim the gift buying tide with other Whos, remember to buy from your heart and not with the random coupon you might find. The receiver will appreciate the effort and you will always remember the look on their face that says, "You like me. You get me. You're my favorite."

That's xmas to me.

Age is a very high price to pay for maturity. Tom Stoppard

I have spent the last 20 min combing the internet for a picture of what I want to blog about today. And I can't find anything even close. I'm going to attribute that to being very un-hip, old and more than anything-white.

I bowl on Tuesday nights on the north side of town. And for the most part I'm spoiled by bowling with women, or with my gays. So when I got asked to bowl on a mixed league (straight: very, very straight), I was shocking to me how shocked I was at the folks that bowled there.

It's like when you hit a Spanish station on the radio, by accident, and you just think, "These aren't 'my people'". and then quickly turn it to some pop top 40.

That's how I feel on Tuesday nights. I can't really relate to any of them.

At a certain hour, it's like a switch if flipped and people pour through the doorway to bowl. The brim on the baseball hats are a lil flatter. The pants hang a lil lower. I'm still amazed how someone can walk the lane approach and hold their pants on AND swing the ball in the other hand.

Look....I don't get it. I don't want to see the color of your underwear. I don't want to see your ass creeping up out or your pants. It makes me a lil nuts. Ok, I said it!

This Tues the most amazing foursome came through the door. If I wasn't in the armpit of NY, I would say it was a rap star. And yes...a REAL hip hop shooting star would have looked just as out of place and.....silly. YES....SILLY! So sue me! This was no hip hop artist, that I could tell. Just teenagers out for a night of bowling.

Since I can't find this get-up on line, I'm going to have to describe it to you: metallic gold and black, over sized and matching from hat, to jacket, to his damn shoes, people! He was a scrawny white boy with this enormous jacket on. It was kinda puffy, but the design was what was amazing. It was like metallic golden swirls and his shoes matched perfectly. He hoisted his pants at one point, so those were, of course, hanging off him non-exsistant ass.

His girl was a foot taller and looked like she had stepped out of a Mattel assembly line. She might have been 18, but her plastic surgery was already aging her. Tweedle Dumb & Tweedle Dumber were the henchmen in tow. They sported white tank tops and hippity hoppity type jackets with flat brimmed baseball caps askew.

It was horrifying and amazing all at the same time. And I wondered....am I that old? Have I reached that age my mother was where nothing I liked was 'cool' anymore? If I was younger and hipper would his outfit be awesome?

No. He looked like an idiot.

While I wore my share of silly things in the 80's, I never looked like my mother dressed me in my father's size of matching tag garanimals.

I think I'm ok with finally hitting the un-cool mark in my life. So I can't watch shows like the Grammy's or the MTV Awards. I still have re-runs of the Brady Bunch. And I do have a certain advantage: a belt.

“Being crazy isn't enough.” ― Dr. Seuss

You know the drill. It's that time of year and the calendar is filling up scary fast. The end of another year is screaming towards us. I was shocked to flip the calendar, which I was already 3 days behind, and uncover the first of December.

Shocked!

I was told a looooong time ago, probably by a teacher that I thought was old as dirt and now I'm older than she was when she told me, that as you get older the time passes faster.

Holy Oprah pass the bucket cuz this motion sick momma ain't gonna handle the next couple decades well.

With the holidays comes the rush of shopping and wearing out the numbers on your plastic cards. Mine is almost see-thru at this point. Thank you Cyber Monday for on-line shopping deals. At least I got that taken care of, right quick. My office-mate scowled at me when I announced I was done shopping. I triumphant declaration with a fist pump for effect. But when your family is 3,000 miles away, you have to think ahead.

That doesn't slow down time either.

Looking ahead on the calendar is quite dizzying: trips are booked for Feb and April. The high holy month of March is stacked to the rafters already, with my lil Irish Radio show. That's as far as I dare to look into my crystal ball. If I know too much ahead of time I might just become a hermit and find a cave to crawl into.

I need to sit down. But certainly there is no time to do it. Maybe Santa will bring me a 13 month year! But knowing my life, I'll find a way to shove that full of 'to-dos' before you can say "I'm sorry, I'm busy that day."

Calgon take me away!

Artists, no matter how good their intentions, are always slower than they think. ~ Mark Millar

And slow I was. Mind you we had a few hiccups in the road. A trip to the ER, busy schedules, many things happening in the weeks leading up to the most awesome of holiday ever!

But I got there, finally.

I didn't put everything out, but enough to make a good show.

A new window display, the Witch's Kitchen, made it's debut. My new apothecary jars fit in so very well.

I made a "dug grave" in the front yard, with a lil illusion magic. With night and only the colored flood lights and tiki torches, I had a couple people ask how long it took me to dig the hole in the front yard. Amazing what you can do with a black trash bag and cheap towels dyed the color of dirt. I think the 'spade in the ground" sold it tho. The flashing "Vacancy" is a good gag as well. One of my wife's favorite parts of the graveyard.

The new costume was a hit as well. Lots of shrieks and running children everywhere. I was thinking the zombie pirate theme might be overkill, but it turned out awesome. I even put a horrible eye under the pirate patch. No one wanted to see what was under my patch, but those that did, were grosed out. Perfect!

Now the house is filled with boxes and bags of Halloween collected. The inside is now kind of a holiday graveyard. I took off the 1st to pack up and pick up. Plus I had to hit all the after holiday sales. I hate buying stuff before, hence the post on my fence earlier. Managed to get a few things, I swore I wasn't going to get. But isn't that the way sales go? "Do I need this? No....but I sure do WANT it!"

Half the fun is opening up rubber maid tubs in the attic next year and saying, "Did I buy this?!?!"

Another year done. It's over so fast, for all the build up that happens. As an on-looker said, "Your house is the one they are going to remember and tell their kids about." My response was, "This is the house I remember from MY trick or treating!"

Electric Dreamin'

I have to take a break from my Halloween fever (I'm so far behind...what does it matter?)

The home inspector came this morning for my Nissan Leaf charging station. Yes....charging station. I'm going NO TAILPIPE people! All in, all electric. I'm so excited I I can't stand myself.

I fretted for days over this inspection. We have a 75 year old house, smack dab in the middle of the snow belt. (we have won the 'golden snowball' trophy for the past decade, I think, here in CNY) There is just no way a cutting edge car could be plopped down right here. Well....it can....and it will!

It's the worst possible time to spend money on a car. I know. We'll have to do a few upgrades to get the house ready for the station. I know. We will only have one car for long trips. I know.

But as I said to my wife this morning, "This is like an aquarian's wet dream!"

• A new car would thrill my jug bearing brother, James Dean (who shares my exact birthday).
• The cutting edge invention would have fellow aquarian Thomas Edison telling Watson to lift the hood to see inside.
• The sense of "freedom" from the pump from aquarian president, Abraham Lincoln
• The feel-good-for-the-environment whimsy from my January Aqua-sister Ellen Degeneres.(and birthday twin of my wife)
• And you can't leave out one of my favorite aquarians, Oprah, "You get a car...you get a car....YOU get a car!"

And while I've secretly been dreading that this purchase might be a divorce between me and my wife, she manage to blog about me this morning: HERE

And since she's the writer in the family...she did a much better job then I ever have on my blog. :)

Viva La Revolución

"Don't just do something, stand there... Uh... no no! Go go! Go get my gloves! I'm late! " ~ White Rabbit, Alice In Wonderland

I finally got some time to do SOMETHING for my haunt and look what happened. My cemetery gates, the ones I was so excited about from Spirits, suck ASS!

They broke in 4 different places, the stakes on the bottom broke and they flopped over onto the ground as soon as I walked away. What a pile of crap! I knew I should have done my own columns this year. But like many years....I don't have the time to get into my basement laboratory and get things done.

I am making some delightful apothecary jars, with the inspirational help from LoveManor.com and their fantastic labels. But that's about it.

I turned cheap glass jars like this:

Into cool ones that just need a lil aging....

Oh..and I got up Spooky Town. But I couldn't find anything of good enough quality to buy new for it this year. Which also stunk. We did watch NBX this past weekend. I do love a movie that you can watch for Halloween and Christmas! It never gets old, either. It's still one of the best.

Well....there are still 12 days left. I have time to whip things into shape. Pumpkin carving date with my wife on Wednesday. If plunging a knife into the soft gourds adn scooping out their guts to toast and then eat, doesn't get me into the mood.....I'm a lost cause!

"There are three things I have learned never to discuss with people: religion, politics and the Great Pumpkin." Linus

Everything tastes better in a Jack mug. Don't you think? I use them all year long (yes...I said 'them'....I own a few)

This weekend it Halloween Time at ye ol homestead. Gotta get out the tombstones and start to scare-i-fy the house. I tried pluggin in my lil projector and low and behold...it doesn't work. There go my plans to turn the front sun porch into a movie screen.Great! Why didn't I test it when I bought it. Duh. Guess my make shift 'crank ghost' will fly again this year.

The temps are dipping into the 30's over night here in upstate NY. The trees are starting to get their color on. We are going apple picking this weekend. Maybe a trip to the pumpkin patch as well. They had pumpkin whoopie pies last year....I can not express to you enough how ah-mah-zing they were.My local coffee stop is making pumpkin brittle lattes and they are divine!
I pulled out my rubbermaid tub o Halloween shirts and am proudly sporting my newest Jack Skellington today. (perhaps a viewing of NBX is called for this weekend as well)

I think we should bump off Thanksgiving and make Halloween two months long. There just isn't enough time!

You put up a fence around a grave yard cuz folks are DYING to get in!

I've been looking to upgrade my lil grave yard fence for a while. And since I'm changing up my costume this year, I wasn't going to make anything for my tiny lil haunt. So when I finally got to Spirit's and saw these fence pieces, I thought I would grab a couple. Now...I'm more of a "day-after-the-holiday" shopper at Spirit's, cuz of their crazy prices. But we only have one location near me this year, and it's across town, and they only had a few of these fence pieces. So I'm not sure they would even have them after the fact.

Yes...I'm justifying it.

So after paying more than I would have liked too, I of course come into work to find a stinking coupon! UGH! Don't it figure.

You know when you buy new curtains for a room and then you start looking around and you notice the carpet doesn't really match and that old chair just looks shabby now and you should probably paint. Well.....this morning I woke up and started thinking, which is always a bad thing. "Maybe I should do some pillars for the new fence."

Yes folks, this is how it starts. Now I need to dash to Home Depot and get some lovely pink insulation, some grey paint, some big foam balls from Michael's for the pillar caps and the next few free nights are now booked. I will be holed up in the basement, my wife left to shake her head when folks ask where I am.

I figure, with the projects I've done so far, I'm pretty good with the faux stone. And pillars are just tall boxes, so it won't take THAT long....right?

SIGH....I never start early enough.