The case of the missing 150 pieces of Costco candy and other capers

Almost Halloween. Do you feel the tension rising?

Me? Not so much. We didn't go to a Halloween party we were invited to on Saturday. It would have been great for adults, but we were with child and had a collective tired man's ass that day. I also needed a shower, and my current status as Mommy makes me sometimes reconsider the effort and time it takes to shower versus using that time to sleep. Sleep usually wins... or should I say, stink usually wins?

We've yet to carve our pumpkin. I'm thinking it's time to do it, lest we allow the pumpkin to decay on our kitchen floor before the squirrels get to shred it to bits on the front porch. That's really the fate of pumpkins in this neighborhood. They get to scare the wee childrens for a day or two, and then the ADHD squirrels come ripping across the yard to devour the poor thing. I'm certain that they sit in the trees and draw up maps of all the pumpkins in the 'hood, and then formulate an attack. At our first house in Denver, we had our pumpkin proudly displayed on the porch. We awoke to find a squirrel sitting inside the pumpkin, eating it from the inside out. It made for cute squirrel pictures (can't find them at the moment - sorry).

Now, whenever we take a walk, we say such things as, "Ooh. That pumpkin has suffered a cruel fate. Damn you, squirrels!" *shakes fists*

Halloween also means candy. We bought a giant bag of 150 pieces of chocolate items at Costco. It contained exactly the things I like and exactly the things I don't like. Luckily, the things I don't like were the items that Phil was willing to devour. It's quite convenient when that happens, otherwise the unloved pieces are the ones that end up in some poor skunk's or lion's trick o' treat bag.

We've made our own Halloween fun out of eating the chocolate that is rotting our teeth and innards. I'll throw a few at Phil for a snack or meal replacement, and he'll say, "Thank you for the candy that you hate." See? That is how love works.

We've eaten approximately 100 of those chocolate pieces. By the time actual Trick o' Treaters show up to the door, I'm guessing there will be five pieces remaining for them to fight it out over. And really, that's a pretty entertaining idea to think of five-year-olds fighting on my porch for a Butterfinger. I'll support them by yelling, "Get 'em, kid! That's the spirit! Oooh... no one wins when the Butterfinger gets smashed."

Maybe now that I have the sporty fan spirit wafting inside me after that sad turn of events during the World Series, I'll start taking bets on the fighting costumed kids. Five bucks says that Harry Potter totally gets creamed.

Meh. This is all I can do to entertain myself until Amos is old enough to enjoy Halloween. When that happens, I'll try to refrain from encouraging him from fighting with Dora the Explorer over her chocolate treats. But, you know... once the gambling bug gets ya, it's hard to resist.

My kid will totally win that Butterfinger. Hands down. But I won't eat it. That's the rejected piece that Daddy must eat. I'm holding out for an Almond Joy.