Smell my feet!

I do not know how this happened, but in addition to the box of 90 miniature Hershey's bars that I purchased a few weeks ago, I somehow decided that this was a good idea:

Given that we average between five and ten trick-or-treaters a year, and, on a related note, since my kids are two of the very few that prowl our very unpopular street they are the recipients of massive neighbourly generosity, by tomorrow I predict that we will have approximately one thousand little candies in the house. I don't know a) why I bought so much, or b) why I bought the one candy that I cannot leave alone - Rockets. Mmmm. Artificial dextrose-y goodness. They are also vegan. It should be part of their marketing slogan: vegan and gluten free! Really, the Rockets people should be calling me.

I was smart enough not to buy flats of chips, though. Those wouldn't have even lasted the afternoon by the time I got through with them. Trick-or-treat! I'd answer the door, bloated, with chip crumbs all over my sweater.

And here it is, Halloween. I'm never on trick-or-treat duty, thankfully, so I can cozy up on the couch waiting for our five-to-ten visitors and calming the dog when said visitors ring the doorbell. My job will be done when I figure out how to get these costumes

over top of these coats.

And now you can see for yourself why I'm perfectly happy to curl up on the couch with a bag of Rockets. COLD. Also, kind of lazy.

I know it's only Halloween, but my mind has gone straight from pumpkins to Christmas. Santa's coming! In only 55 days! So of course my mind is on ordering Christmas cards and photo calendars to give as gifts, and my sister-in-law, god bless her, has sent me her children's wish lists, complete with online shopping options. I love my sister-in-law. She gets me. A couple of glasses of wine, the laptop, and my shopping will be, by and large, done. Maybe I'll even do my shopping tonight while waiting for little ghouls and goblins. Multitasking!

Speaking of multitasking, I spent yesterday afternoon at the hair salon, and while my colour was "processing", as they say, I put 270 photos into an album. Apparently I'm the only person left on planet earth under the age of 70 who still prints photos and puts them in albums. Everyone is into photo books now, and that does seem like a more efficient solution, but what happens when I die and the kids want to give photos of their childhood to their respective offspring? Morbid, I know, but it is Halloween. Also, I like to send prints to various relatives and adhere them onto my refrigerator so I can look at some cuteness while I spend my endless days in the kitchen.

So it was a win all around; I have photos in album and I have nice hair now. A few days ago I was thinking I needed a wig, not because of Halloween, but because I truly loathed my hair. Here's the before shot:

Those are my dad's genetics, right there. Well, except for the forehead wrinkles, that seems to be my own special characteristic. Good thing my dad is so good about excavating dead mice from my house and being calm in the midst of my total hysteria, elsewise I might get cranky about being on a six-week colour cycle.

But here's the after!   

I gave my hair a little toss just to get that shampoo commercial feel. Although maybe I should have held off a couple of days AND bought fun packs of chips, just so I could scare small children at my door. THIS IS MY COSTUME, BAHAHAHAHA.