Halloween is one of my fave-0-right holidays, right up there with Christmas and birthdays. I love transforming myself into another person, a different version of myself. (To say nothing of all that sugar!). It is one of the few things that makes me nostalgic for my childhood; memories of the elaborate and wonderful costumes my mother made my sister and I each year, despite the fact that at that time all we wanted was one of those ticky-tacky "store-bought" ones; bundling up against the Seattle-area cold; and finally trundling home to pour our loot out onto the dining room table for the ultimate barter session, with Dad paying 25cents for the mini chocolate bars that I couldn't eat (a suspected allergy, since proven baseless and fueling my unquenchable hunger for all things chocolate).
I do miss the years as an adult dressing up with Eileen and company for our annual party-crawl on the plaza. For 5 years, Eileen and I were different takes on a theme. 2003 was Trailer Trash Hookers; 2002 was Horny Devils; in 2001 we were Witches with Whips; we were Tres Putas in 2000; and in 1999, the trend started with Dominatrixes. Man, did we ever have a great time come Halloween. The first and last years were the best, I'd say. That first time, Eileen traded me the 6foot horse whip I brought from the tack barn I lived above at the time for our friend Danny, who was at the end of a 2foot heavy chain; we ended up dating for over a year after that night, despite the fact that he got a sudden and virulent case of the flu, and I nursed him through the next several days. And I'll never forget the image of Eileen and the bouncer from Marino's Bar (R.I.P., Marino's), standing on the corner of the plaza at 2:30 in the morning, her with whip in hand, him in a kilt, bent over and begging for it. Those were fun times.
And that last year, Eileen 8 months pregnant with Sophie, us in vinyl mini skirts and black mesh shirts over leopard-print bras, huge rocker wigs on our heads and enough makeup to paint everyone we know, me with a fake syringe taped to my arm and her with her belly out to there and beyond. I'd loaned her my flask to carry and keep herself hydrated, and sure enough, some ninny at the Grill said "I hope that's water in your flask!", to which the obvious retort was "No, it's Jack Daniels you idiot!" You can bet that's exactly what I said, too. (It was water).
But I got a nice surprise when Eileen and Sophie and daddy Audi stopped by for a visit last night. This is us in our Halloween finery. They were the best trick-or-treaters I got all night. Hope you had as much as I did.