I’m feeling trick-or-treat deprived.
Because it was my weekend to work, I spent last evening at the Daily Globe, typing obituaries and proofing pages instead of handing out candy.
Meanwhile, at home, Hubby Bryan was doing door duty. He got so tired of answering the bell that he finally just went out and sat on the front deck with the bowl of candy, using his deep bass voice to do his best Count Chocula impression. Between the waves of kiddies, he called me a couple times, talking like that. I was not amused. Well, just a little bit amused. I told him next year I was going to get him a cape, so he could look the part, too.
By the time I got home, Bryan had run out of candy and turned out the lights, although there were still plenty of ghosts and goblins milling around the neighborhood. I always enjoy seeing the costumes and the parents or older siblings ushering the kiddos from house to house. There are always a few that forget to say “Thank you,” but for the most part, we get some pretty polite children standing on our doorstep.
While our trick-or-treating was concluded, it was still in full swing when sister Margaret checked in from Denver. She and Hubby Don are infamous in their neighborhood for giving out vegetables — usually broccoli — along with the candy. This year they added “Scarrots,” baby carrots purposefully packaged for Halloween with temporary tattoos inside. While Margaret and I talked, Don was rummaging through the frig in search of more broccoli because the kids had specifically been asking for it. All he found, however, were scallions. One girl, my sister reported, told her that their house was her favorite place to trick-or-treat because of the broccoli.
I might have to try handing out some veggies next year. I don’t know if they’ll get the same reception in Worthington as they do in Denver. I think it has a lot to do with the presentation.