![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
moo hoo hah hah hah
Oct. 31st, 2004 08:18 pm.
It's Halloween, the night that spirits and witches and goblins and power rangers and Nemos and M&Ms walk the neighborhood.
In addition, there was one duck. Or rather, a little girl in a duck costume. And instead of walking, she was either riding in her wagon (being pulled by me) or insisting on being carried, while I pulled the wagon. We covered perhaps two blocks of our street. Actually, we went a little more than a block in one direction, but back at our end of the cul-de-sac, I wanted to be sure and visit all our immediate neighbors, and getting to the ends of their driveways accounted for the rest of the distance I mentioned.
Sarah did not mince words, or even use any. Typically, she's shy in front of people for ten or fifteen minutes, and we weren't standing on anybody's doorstep long enough, so I did all the "trick or treat" and "thank you" business. We started out in the newly twilighty five o'clock hour, when we had arranged to hook up with our neighbors across the street and string along with their group. I got there a half minute too late, and... well, everybody's wearing costumes, see, so I basically hooked up with whoever was going the same way. A neighbor gave us a light stick. I didn't discern who it was, it being halfway dark by that time. I carried the digital camera along. It has fairly impressive light-gathering power, even though it wants to use the flash 99% of the time. It's also a bit of a burden when trying to negotiate a child and a wagon and goodies. Also, every time I picked Sarah up (which was whenever she asked, which was frequently), my earphones were ripped out of my head again. I took the hint and put them away.
Cathy stayed at home to hand out largesse. I told her, if anybody asked why we didn't decorate our house and yard to scare the neighborhood, to tell them that's what the Kerry sign is for. I hope the fact ours is the only one on our street is more a reflection of how hard it was to get our sign. The Kerry HQ here is supposedly on 28th Street, downtown, but our foray up and down that street showed nothing that was admitting to any partisan activities of any sort. There were yard signs visible, but it seemed like it might be poor ettiquette to swipe some. But I see I am digressing.
A block away from our house, on the other side of the street, the real Halloween house was having a party. They have had their decorations up for a while, and it's a mini-Disneyland of figures and dioramas. Cathy says the lady of the house was down at our end of the street this morning in pajamas, feeding frosted doughnuts to the ducks. She (not Cathy) estimated they would have about 200 people at the party. I hear they had a fire engine there last year. Sorry I missed that. They served food and beverages, and Sarah and I had a hot dog before pressing onward. I snapped what will undoubtedly turn out to be motion-blurred pictures of the vibrant displays. As I say, the camera has great power to gather light, but the darker it gets, the more one needs a tripod. In my case, one needs to find the damn tripod or admit defeat and buy another. One is so stubborn sometimes.
Anyway, we had lots of nice little visits with folks up and down the street. I met one of our newest neighbors, who turns out to be a non-observer of the evening, so I welcomed him to the neighborhood and mentioned the thing about porch lights and trick-or-treaters. Not sure if it took or not. Sarah and I were getting a little tired, and my arms were getting achy, but we... okay, I... wanted to complete our survey by seeing all the more-or-less adjacent houses to ours. This may have been a good move for another reason as well, in that Shirley snapped a picture of Sarah and me, and it might be the only one of the evening that shows her well. It's certain to be the only one with me in it. She'll let me have a copy of the file. Sarah, despite her general silence, finally said two words to our neighbor Cindy at our final stop. Cindy asked her what ducks say, and Sarah obliged with a pair of quacks.
We got home as a couple of kids on the porch seemed about to give up. Maybe Cathy was indisposed. I stepped inside and handed them each a couple of Milky Way minis, which turned out to be a double ration. After that, Sarah was happy to help hand out goodies, until she was scared by a boy in a ghost costume. She was probably more scared of the boy than the costume. We continued to answer the door through dinner. Then, when we started putting Sarah to bed, I went and turned off the porch light. A couple of minutes later, I saw some more kids across the street, so I turned the light on until they came and got theirs. They turned out to be the group we had started out with, so it sort of brought us full circle. Or something.
It appears that Sarah approves of this holiday. Having people give her stuff wherever she went probably reminded her of her first several months here, when it seemed like every day brought more presents. Anyway, she's on line for next year, when she will undoubtedly have a little more to say.
.
It's Halloween, the night that spirits and witches and goblins and power rangers and Nemos and M&Ms walk the neighborhood.
In addition, there was one duck. Or rather, a little girl in a duck costume. And instead of walking, she was either riding in her wagon (being pulled by me) or insisting on being carried, while I pulled the wagon. We covered perhaps two blocks of our street. Actually, we went a little more than a block in one direction, but back at our end of the cul-de-sac, I wanted to be sure and visit all our immediate neighbors, and getting to the ends of their driveways accounted for the rest of the distance I mentioned.
Sarah did not mince words, or even use any. Typically, she's shy in front of people for ten or fifteen minutes, and we weren't standing on anybody's doorstep long enough, so I did all the "trick or treat" and "thank you" business. We started out in the newly twilighty five o'clock hour, when we had arranged to hook up with our neighbors across the street and string along with their group. I got there a half minute too late, and... well, everybody's wearing costumes, see, so I basically hooked up with whoever was going the same way. A neighbor gave us a light stick. I didn't discern who it was, it being halfway dark by that time. I carried the digital camera along. It has fairly impressive light-gathering power, even though it wants to use the flash 99% of the time. It's also a bit of a burden when trying to negotiate a child and a wagon and goodies. Also, every time I picked Sarah up (which was whenever she asked, which was frequently), my earphones were ripped out of my head again. I took the hint and put them away.
Cathy stayed at home to hand out largesse. I told her, if anybody asked why we didn't decorate our house and yard to scare the neighborhood, to tell them that's what the Kerry sign is for. I hope the fact ours is the only one on our street is more a reflection of how hard it was to get our sign. The Kerry HQ here is supposedly on 28th Street, downtown, but our foray up and down that street showed nothing that was admitting to any partisan activities of any sort. There were yard signs visible, but it seemed like it might be poor ettiquette to swipe some. But I see I am digressing.
A block away from our house, on the other side of the street, the real Halloween house was having a party. They have had their decorations up for a while, and it's a mini-Disneyland of figures and dioramas. Cathy says the lady of the house was down at our end of the street this morning in pajamas, feeding frosted doughnuts to the ducks. She (not Cathy) estimated they would have about 200 people at the party. I hear they had a fire engine there last year. Sorry I missed that. They served food and beverages, and Sarah and I had a hot dog before pressing onward. I snapped what will undoubtedly turn out to be motion-blurred pictures of the vibrant displays. As I say, the camera has great power to gather light, but the darker it gets, the more one needs a tripod. In my case, one needs to find the damn tripod or admit defeat and buy another. One is so stubborn sometimes.
Anyway, we had lots of nice little visits with folks up and down the street. I met one of our newest neighbors, who turns out to be a non-observer of the evening, so I welcomed him to the neighborhood and mentioned the thing about porch lights and trick-or-treaters. Not sure if it took or not. Sarah and I were getting a little tired, and my arms were getting achy, but we... okay, I... wanted to complete our survey by seeing all the more-or-less adjacent houses to ours. This may have been a good move for another reason as well, in that Shirley snapped a picture of Sarah and me, and it might be the only one of the evening that shows her well. It's certain to be the only one with me in it. She'll let me have a copy of the file. Sarah, despite her general silence, finally said two words to our neighbor Cindy at our final stop. Cindy asked her what ducks say, and Sarah obliged with a pair of quacks.
We got home as a couple of kids on the porch seemed about to give up. Maybe Cathy was indisposed. I stepped inside and handed them each a couple of Milky Way minis, which turned out to be a double ration. After that, Sarah was happy to help hand out goodies, until she was scared by a boy in a ghost costume. She was probably more scared of the boy than the costume. We continued to answer the door through dinner. Then, when we started putting Sarah to bed, I went and turned off the porch light. A couple of minutes later, I saw some more kids across the street, so I turned the light on until they came and got theirs. They turned out to be the group we had started out with, so it sort of brought us full circle. Or something.
It appears that Sarah approves of this holiday. Having people give her stuff wherever she went probably reminded her of her first several months here, when it seemed like every day brought more presents. Anyway, she's on line for next year, when she will undoubtedly have a little more to say.
.
