Halloween horror.

Lewisburg.

We're expecting trick-or-treating munchkins this year, which poses a few problems that we hadn't thought out particularly well before. After all, when you've lived for years inside a locked apartment building with few, if any, small children, these things don't become issues at the forefront of your mind. Halloween focuses more on cobbling together a costume from the nearest thrift store, then stopping to pick up some beer on the way to the party.¹ Last year, Sharon picked up some candy at CVS, sort of last-minute, to give out to the handful of kids who stopped by, but that was as far as we got.

(Apparently - even though I missed it - the 3- or 4-year-old in a lion costume who stopped by was the event of the evening. He didn't remember to say "trick or treat" and wasn't sure what to do after receiving his candy. So he just sat down on the porch, looking up at Sharon, until his mother coaxed him down. Our neighbors thought he was adorably hilarious, too.)

This year, we've expanded a bit. Sharon went to the little candy shop downtown to pick up some treats that aren't HFCS-based. Sure, they're still loaded with sugar - they look like un-crooked candy canes to me, so they've got to be 98% sugar, minimum - but at least it's supporting a local business. And we brought home a pumpkin from the market for the first jack o'lantern either of us has made for years. It was tough, actually, trying to figure out what to carve, when we hadn't done this for so long. So, after a lot of scribbling on little pieces of paper:



Unilluminated, it's not the most exciting of pumpkins. Having hacked away with the paring knife, though, it isn't as though I could go back and erase, so we dropped in a candle, dimmed the lights, and were pleasantly surprised. Seriously. I neglected to take a candle-less photo, but you'll have to trust me that it was about as unimpressive as it could be.

Even better, though, is when we turned out all of the kitchen lights:



Good enough for government work, as my dad might say. Which, of course, reminds me that the scariest day of the coming week isn't Friday. It's Tuesday.²

I recommend a regular dose of FiveThirtyEight to take the edge off. Polls, of course, are inherently limited, but aside from knowing my polling place - and a little volunteer time for the GOTV effort - there's little I can effectively do. It's frightening to see the massive, clanging, somewhat-irrational-and-unpredictable behemoth that is the presidential election screeching and howling into election day.

Maybe I should dress up as the electoral college.

* * * * *

¹There aren't as many parties to attend, now that we're in central PA, playing the "responsible adult" game, so costumes aren't happening for 2008.^a But Fiend Without A Face should be arriving before Friday, so at least we have something horror-related to watch. That's safe to have on when a 4-year-old comes to the door.

My initial thoughts were to watch something more like Dead Ringers or The Act of Seeing with One’s Own Eyes, but neither of those is remotely appropriate for a television that can be seen from the porch.

^aBesides that, what am I going to dress up as? The current Republican ticket's the scariest thing I can think of. Aside from some sort of terrible, world destroying Cheney-zilla. (Maybe next year.)

²Why Tuesday? Indeed.