Just call me Cinnamon

2 Nov

That had to have been one of the more “interesting” weekends I’ve experienced in a while.  I use quotation marks because part of the weekend was spent preparing for a funeral.

(Can you call a funeral interesting?  Yes, actually, you can.  I once attended a funeral where the deceased’s hand was sticking up out of the casket clutching a deck of cards.  Creeee-py.)

Anyhoo…. Between bouts of cleaning, storing green bean casserole and carting in extra chairs, we prepared for Halloween.  As you can tell from yesterday’s pictures, the kids looked awesome.  And I was guilted into dressing up as something different than what I had originally planned.  Apparently I dressed up like a Mom last year for Halloween.  Oops.  How ever could I make such a mistake?  Sadly, the only thing a grown woman can dress up as at the last minute is some “goth” version of their normal self.  And that never looks slutty.   *cough*  Despite my knee-length skirt and only slightly low-cut shirt, I still felt like I should be introducing myself as Cinnamon or Candy….or Cinnamon Candy.  Because all hookers are sweet that way.

The outfit only got more awkward as I sat in the kitchen waiting to leave for trick-or-treating.  As I sat there waiting for Jaden’s wounds to finish festering, far-flung family members began arriving to dole out their condolences and oriental slaw.

“Um…*cough*….I’m-sorry-for-your-loss.”

Thanks.  Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to go hit up the elderly for some Charleston Chews.

Let’s just say that we stayed out trick-or-treating long enough for all of the house guests to return home.  I’m sure they didn’t want to watch us peel off Jaden’s fake wounds since they’d already been forced to see them applied.  It’s not something that the 60 and over crowd finds appealing.  Maybe my generation will be different.  *wink*

At least we’ve got enough candy to last us until Valentine’s Day.  By then we’ll be ready to trade in our chocolate eye balls for naked, flying babies.  Woo hoo!

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