Candy corn, candy pumpkins, spiced gumdrops, milk chocolate eyeballs, Twizzlers, mini-candy bars…Oh yes, Halloween candy, that is what Halloween is all about, no matter what all the fall festival planners across the nation might say.
Sure Halloween costumes, carnivals, chili cook-offs, beauty pageants, corn mazes, red, orange, yellow leaves, the smell of those leaves burning, and pumpkin decorating contests, all contribute to a successful fall season. Many school reunions and family reunions are held during fall. But, for me, Halloween is all about the candy.
I usually buy a bag of candy corn the moment I first spot it in the store—sometimes as early as Labor Day weekend—and another bag thereafter each time I am in a grocery store.
There are not many trick-or-treaters out here in the country where I live. In fact, I believe the last time was in 1986 when a couple of young boys who lived down the road came. They now live out-of-state with children of their own. I suppose there is a chance they might come by this Halloween—and here I am with no candy corn in the house.
Excuse me…I’ve got to get to the store. This time, I’m buying TWO bags of candy corn.
“Beep, beep, beep, beep, beep….” Yes, it sounded like a car alarm, all right. I peered out the back door, and car headlights blinked. I first thought our weekend houseguests had gone out to their car for some forgotten item and accidentally triggered an alarm. A second look, though, showed me it was John’s car reacting to…well, I could only imagine what…or who….
A quick glance toward the closed door of the guest bedroom assured me our guests were, no doubt, already in dreamland. I started toward our bedroom to alert John of the possibility of a person or persons attempting to enter his car. The noise suddenly stopped. I took a final look out the backdoor and saw John’s car parked quietly in the driveway.
“That was strange,” I said as I entered the bedroom.
“What was strange?” John asked.
“Well, your car alarm was going off, but not it has stopped. Maybe we should make sure everything is all right,” I said.
“Oh, that…well, I might have had my key fob in my pocket, and I might have caused the alarm to go off while I was taking off my shoes.”
It’s a good thing I hadn’t called the sheriff.
The summer issue of the Weight Watchers magazine arrived the third day of fall. I had not subscribed to it, so it came as a surprise. Yet, there was my name, clear as it could be, neatly printed on the address label. I took the arrival as a personal insult.
There are disciplined folks who allow their weight to fluctuate only five pounds or so over their entire life. I am not one of those. My weight fluctuates in a twenty-plus-pound range. It will be high for several years, then I will eat only lettuce and mints for a year, and my weight drops to the lower end of my “weight zone.”
At the time of the magazine’s arrival, my weight had crept back on, and it was pretty much right in the middle of my zone. While I don’t know who decided to send me the magazine, I do wish he or she had sent it ten pounds earlier. Still, the magazine probably does have some good diet recipes in it, and I will check those out–just as soon as I finish eating the gallon of ice cream in the refrigerator.
“Drip, drip, drip, splatter, splatter, splatter,” the sound of rain on the window woke me. Yet, there had been no rain in the forecast…and I was on the ground floor of a five-story hotel. I stumbled across the room to the window, pulled back the drapes, and saw no rain falling. I listened carefully and determined the dripping sound came from the closet. Upon opening the door, I saw no water there. Now wide awake, I realized the sound of dripping water surely came from the bathroom shower.
“Boiinnkk!” sounded my head against the sparkling-clean shower door. Dazed, my forehead turning purple, I found my way back to bed. When morning arrived, I asked John if he had heard water dripping during night.
“No, but I heard a loud bang. Must have been the trash truck,” he answered. “Didn’t you hear it?”
“Yes, I did, loud and clear,” I answered rubbing the knot on my forehead.
I never determined the source of the dripping water. One thing I do know, though, is I won’t be banging my head on the shower door at home. Oh no, there’s a reason for soap scum on shower doors.