Happy Halloween

Happy Halloween

I find myself alone in the house tonight so I intend to rattle the rafters by cranking up the decibels on the stereo and shaking loose all the ghosts and goblins.

Here's hoping your Halloween is equally rewarding.

Too Poor to Die

Now I know the financial worst is yet to come. How can I deduce anything else from the internet headline that Walmart is selling discount caskets?

Obviously the writing is on the wall - a growing percentage of the population is unable to afford a final resting box for the dearly departed.

I submit that a better approach would be a modern day version of bring out your dead. Instead of a filthy, limping man driving a mule drawn cart loaded with dead bodies, a biological entity recycling vehicle will make weekly rounds to collect bodies recently evacuated by the life essence.

Does the new improved version sound sufficiently politically correct? I wouldn't want to offend anyone's sensibilities.

The non functioning biological entities would be taken to a perpetually burning pyre where they would be reduced to ash and packaged as fertilizer.

The only cost to the departed's survivors would be a nominal pick up and processing fee.

Got'ta run - the local patent office closes soon.

Clown Fear

Media Girl recently reminded me that she is terrified of clowns. The reminder sort of came out of nowhere - there were no clowns to be seen at the time nor had there been any recent close encounters of the red nose kind.

My daughter's fear stems from the movie It, based on the Steven King novel.

Media Girl's statement reminded that as a child College Dude also had a fear of clowns, though his fear had no tie to a specific movie or book so far as I know.

Earlier in my life, when my hairline first started to recede, I had said that when the hair on top of my head got too thin I would go for the Bozo the clown look. I had decided that I would shave the top of my scalp, leaving a ring of hair about ear height that I would douse with hair spray so that the hair stood out on end.

Given that both my children grew up with a fear of clowns, I guess it's a good thing I never followed through on the Bozo hair style.

Hershey Coasters

Our family celebrated my birthday on Saturday with a trip to Hershey Park. We've been there several times in the past, but this was our first night time experience.

Motivated Mom and I are roller coaster fanatics. We were thrilled to discover that park attendance in the dark was low enough that we were able to get on each coaster with virtually no waiting.

Much as I enjoy roller coasters, at the top of the first drop I almost always find myself wondering what form of dementia caused me to misplace my common sense.

Saturday night was no exception. Our first ride was a new coaster with a ninety degree drop on the first hill. That's right - straight down.

Just before gravity took over, I found myself shouting - bad idea, I've changed my mind.

Of course at that point it was too late. The coaster plummeted earthward and I aged an additional year. Then the coaster looped, spun, pointed skyward again, and left terra firma behind.

My screams changed to laughter, I briefly encountered my childhood during a barrel roll, and when the ride was over I hurried on to the next coaster so I could once again laugh at certain death.

Imaginings & A Break

What captivates me during evening walks at this time of year is the warm light coming from inside of the homes I pass.

I think about mothers standing at stoves in the kitchen. I imagine wooden spoons clicking against the inside of metal pots, electric can openers whirring, and kitchen drawers sliding open and shut.

I picture fathers in overstuffed chairs, reading the newspaper, and sipping their favorite beverage.

These images are cliches, I know. The reality is that both parents are probably contributing to the evening meal. Spoons and pots have long been replaced by beeping microwaves -at least on weeknights, I accept that.

But somehow the reality of express living seems less warm, less inviting. So I allow myself the imaginings of what was.

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I'll be away from the internet for a few days. Look for a new post on Tuesday.

Needles and Zen

Media Girl had her first acupuncture treatment yesterday - and became an instant believer.

Suffering from a lowered immune system resulting from stress, Media Girl accepted my recommendation to give acupuncture a shot.

I knew the results as soon as I walked into the treatment room at the end of her session. Media Girl was sitting on the edge of the treatment table with a mellow half smile, drooping eyelids, and a faraway look in her eyes.

None the less I had to ask, So how did it go?

I could have poured out half a jar of molasses by the time Media Girl finally turned her head in my direction, raised a finger to her lips, and shushed me into silence.

I was envious. On a day when I was rushing from one appointment to the next Media Girl had found Zen.

On the drive home, my daughter commented that she couldn't believe half a dozen needles had turned every muscle in her body to jelly and that she couldn't wait for next week's return visit.

I'm wondering how many readers have discovered the benefits of acupuncture. I'd love to hear about your experiences. You can e-mail me at scripterbwk@verizon.net.

Struggle to Think

I'm struggling to think tonight. A monstrous head cold has my usually creative thoughts ending in fog enshrouded dead ends. I've changed the subject of tonight's post four times and still cannot seem to come up with one cohesive paragraph.

I'm wondering now how the word cold ever came to the name for the annoying ailment that makes our noses run, our eyes water, and our heads feel like they weigh fifty pounds. It seems to me sludge would be a more appropriate name for the malady.

When we get the sniffles our thoughts flow as slowly as sludge, we sludge through the day, and cough medicines taste like sludge.

Yes, all in all I think sludge is the better choice. It certainly invokes more sympathy. If we hear someone has a cold we dismiss it with a wave of the hand. But we would feel genuinely sorry and concerned for someone who told us they had sludge.

There's no way your boss would expect you to come into work if you had sludge. In fact I'm betting you would be instructed to stay the heck away until you were sure the sludge was gone.

I'm off to find my sludge relief tonic now.