Does one become officially "old" when the process of decorating for a holiday becomes more of a bother than fun? When the prospect of gravestones, poster cut-outs and pumpkins fill you with dread rather than delight does it signal the onset of the twilight years? Wandering through Target's harvest display yesterday I saw so many things I wished to own, but yet had no desire to purchase. It wasn't because I was short on cash it was because I just didn't want to put forth the effort. The effort of hauling box after box out of the attic. The effort of taking down my normal decor and putting up the Halloween pumpkin-y stuff just for a few weeks. I have no party planned and in fact I most likely won't be home for Halloween anyway.
Normally Kurt and I go all out decorating for this festive night of nights with elaborate designs that wow the neighborhood kids. I love the creative time spent with him and all the 'oohs' and 'aahhs' we get from the children and parents alike. I love the ego boost from being the best house on the block. Unfortunately my idea of how "cool" I am was dashed last year when I did not decorate. I decided to protest last year because the year before some punk kids stole decorations from my front porch on Halloween night. The pieces were strewn about the neighborhood, shoved in bushes and generally ruined. That pissed me off and in retaliation I did not decorate nor did I hand out candy. I kept the house in a black-out. Yea, that showed them all right. Ppfft all it did was save me money spent on candy and the up and down all night from answering the door. It turned out other people like to decorate as much as I did and had their houses covered in store-bought decorations that rivaled my home-made items. In fact no one seemed to notice that my house remained dark.
I don't know what I expected. Did I think kids would line up at my door waiting to ask me why I did not have my pumpkin tree out and lit up in all its scary glory? Were the children supposed to hang upon each other wailing for my annual graveyard, refusing to dress up and chanting outside on the lawn until I relented? Is this what I thought would happen? Instead I was an aging has-been holed up in her dark house stewing in her own misery. Who suffered beyond my ego? The kids did not, only me. They got candy while I nursed my wounds. Now this year comes with its promises of fun and I'm having a hard time believing it. I can hear the Pumpkin King whispering my name. The witches and ghouls beckoning me to return to their dark bosoms: "carve the pumpkins, put up the skeletons, hand out the caaannndddyyyy....."
I suppose some gravestones wouldn't hurt, maybe I could put out some spiderwebs. I do love those ghostly window clings and jack-o-lanterns are cool. I can always project old black and white Vincent Price movies out of my front window and invite the neighbors to join me. Maybe I am not old, maybe Halloween could be fun again.
Normally Kurt and I go all out decorating for this festive night of nights with elaborate designs that wow the neighborhood kids. I love the creative time spent with him and all the 'oohs' and 'aahhs' we get from the children and parents alike. I love the ego boost from being the best house on the block. Unfortunately my idea of how "cool" I am was dashed last year when I did not decorate. I decided to protest last year because the year before some punk kids stole decorations from my front porch on Halloween night. The pieces were strewn about the neighborhood, shoved in bushes and generally ruined. That pissed me off and in retaliation I did not decorate nor did I hand out candy. I kept the house in a black-out. Yea, that showed them all right. Ppfft all it did was save me money spent on candy and the up and down all night from answering the door. It turned out other people like to decorate as much as I did and had their houses covered in store-bought decorations that rivaled my home-made items. In fact no one seemed to notice that my house remained dark.
I don't know what I expected. Did I think kids would line up at my door waiting to ask me why I did not have my pumpkin tree out and lit up in all its scary glory? Were the children supposed to hang upon each other wailing for my annual graveyard, refusing to dress up and chanting outside on the lawn until I relented? Is this what I thought would happen? Instead I was an aging has-been holed up in her dark house stewing in her own misery. Who suffered beyond my ego? The kids did not, only me. They got candy while I nursed my wounds. Now this year comes with its promises of fun and I'm having a hard time believing it. I can hear the Pumpkin King whispering my name. The witches and ghouls beckoning me to return to their dark bosoms: "carve the pumpkins, put up the skeletons, hand out the caaannndddyyyy....."
I suppose some gravestones wouldn't hurt, maybe I could put out some spiderwebs. I do love those ghostly window clings and jack-o-lanterns are cool. I can always project old black and white Vincent Price movies out of my front window and invite the neighbors to join me. Maybe I am not old, maybe Halloween could be fun again.
1 comment:
As always, when you do it, you do it so well!
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