Traditions

This year we carried out our second annual Halloween Hay Ride, by which I mean my father-in-law towed us behind his pickup in a dump trailer decked out in hay bales, which makes hitting our rural "neighborhood" possible without the inconvenience of buckling and unbuckling seatbelts. Still, it took us three hours to hit about 15 houses. Literally. The problem being we know everyone on our route, so each stop involves a five-to-ten minute conversation about costumes and candy and reminiscences about C when he was the little trick-or-treater. It makes it fun and homey too, and since we do know everyone, there are no qualms about snacking on the haul as we go (and as for the haul, since we're probably the only trick-or-treaters most people get out here in the boonies, we get plenty...my exhortations of "please take only one" being resoundingly ignored by my kids and those passing out the candy). The weather was downright balmy for a hay ride. Next year I think I'll order a pizza ahead of time so that when we stop in to trick-or-treat at the General Store, it will be ready to go, and we'll consume something other than candy and cookies and brownies (did I mention that when you know everyone on your route you can eat baked goods without fear of razor blades or strychnine?)

And it really wouldn't be Halloween without a visit to a chainsaw massacre, now would it?

This year we started a new tradition: C read us a ghost story (called A Ghost Story by Jerome K. Jerome) by candle- and jack-o-lantern-light.

At the end of it all, Z declared, "This was the best Halloween ever!" So he stole the line from "Corduroy's Best Halloween Ever," but the sentiment was right-on.