SPOOKED

I shan't be clever, I shan't be quaint.
I'm only blogging to earn my paint (er...point).

Dearest Linessa of the "If You're Going To Do Something, Do Something Well" realm has invited me, along with several other participants/contestants to better ourselves through an 8 week Holiday challenge. One of the requirements is to write in one's journal/blog each day.

Hence, I'm blogging.

But not well.
I'll just fill you in on the latest of our lives...

Saturday night, for all intents and purposes, was Halloween around here. Joshua went trick-or-treating with some friends (no grown-ups allowed). When he came to school dressed for the Halloween Parade, he was attired in ski clothes and shorts with a naked bum attached, and was (in case you couldn't guess) a ski-bum. To go out Saturday night, though, he was first a clown, then a skeleton, and then left as a ski bum. He returned shortly afterwards, however, to change yet again, this time into a Rastafarian. Whatever that is. He was gone all night, though, so whatever he was, he was having a good time being it.
Lane party-hopped the whole night dressed as...Lane. I did see him in costume the night before when he went to a football game. He was (drum roll, please) a Rastafarian.
I was Rapunzel. Not even a Rastafarian Rapunzel.

I was Rapunzel, that is, until the wig I had painstakingly made out of 6 skeins of yarn gave me a huge headache, a kink in my neck, and partial deafness (I couldn't hear underneath all that yarn). Five days to make the wig. Five minutes 'til it was off my head.

Michael was, as ever, beastly. More specifically, he was in his Halloween-means-but-one-costume-for-the-rest-of-my-life gorilla get-up.

Evan was a Mormon missionary.
Evan was a Mormon missionary who got into a car accident.

He is okay, and was truly protected from what could have been a genuine horror for all of us. We got the scary phone call from the Mission President's wife on Saturday night, just as we were leaving to go to a Halloween party ourselves. Needless to say, we were a little late, and not a little bit shaken. But all is well, for which we are immensely grateful to our Heavenly Father.

A perfect time to move into the Thanksgiving season! No more spooks for me, thank you very much.