Halloweenies

The Halloween party was last night.

I couldn't wear the costume I'd bought.

When I pulled it out of the package, I could see there was a problem. The top was too big, the bottom was too small, and you could see through everything. Because Mr. Sloane was dressing as a blonde version of Eric Carr of KISS, I thought I'd try to dress like a groupie, circa late 1970s. With pink hair. I definitely wanted to wear the wig.

Using clothes I actually already had around the house, I managed to put together an acceptable little number with shorts and boots. I was gratified when, at the party, two people asked me if I was supposed to be the woman from Alias.

"Uh...yeah. Yeah, that's it," I answered with a wink.

What a party. It looked as though our hosts had spent a week decorating in Late Modern Creepy. There were candles on just about every available surface. Even the food dishes sported plastic spiders on top.

We ate. We drank. We laughed. We stayed out much too late, and that pink-haired chick had just a leeeeetle too much of that cranberry/vodka/lemon concotion...it was an ideal party.

Next week? Children's parties!

Shredded Wheat: It Does A Body Good

So, yum! I'm having a bowl of bite-sized shredded wheat for my afternoon snack. I love shredded wheat. It's one of the best foods ever.

I did three miles' worth of Walk Away The Pounds workouts this morning, plus some weight lifting. I walked to and from the public library with my son's preschool class. I trudged all over Target with my two younger children, searching for Halloween costumes for their father and me to wear to a party tomorrow night (I finally settled on an 80s rocker chick for myself...that'll be a sight to see, I'm sure!). I also took the two young'uns to the grocery store and walked all over, pushing a heavy cart. I've got almost 12,000 steps on my pedometer at 4:30 in the afternoon.

So...yes. I was starving, and a bowl of shredded wheat sounded like just the thing.

Don't worry about me being too good, though, with all the exercise and healthy food I like. Don't worry one little bit.

There's a pumpkin eggnog pie in the oven even as we speak. There'll be time enough later on to be baaaaaaaaad.

You've no idea how bad I can be. ;)

Spam, spam, spammity, spammity, spam...

I was born in Minnesota. So was SPAM! I'm okay with that. A little diced Spam scrambled with some eggs? People like that. I haven't had Spam in...oh...I don't know...twenty years? Twenty-five? But I understand that people like Spam. Some people even collect Spam memorabilia (Spamorabilia? Did I just coin a word? Cool!). I wouldn't go that far. I'm Betty Crocker, not Samantha Spam.

Anyway. Spam. Hormel. Austin, Minnesota. It's all okay with me.

Spam on my blog? NOT OKAY with me. Nothing sucks donkey rocks more than seeing that one, two, three, ten(!) people have commented on a blog entry, only to discover that every last stinkin' self-serving one of them is biologically removed from pond scum only due to the fact that there is no pond here. The Space Age Housewife is not a violent person. I thrive on vintage aprons and favorable comparisons to Donna Stone, not Sylvester Stallone. Spam tests my pacifist nature, though. SOMEONE is gonna wind up Mulligan stew, and it ain't gonna be pretty!

I should be baking pumpkin bread instead of ranting about good-for-nothing blog spammers, but uncapping the steam is a good idea from time to time.

Besides, I just dropped a boat load of money - in the four figures - to prepay for my son's upcoming oral surgery. Ouch.

Maybe I ought to bake after all. At least send out for pizza. I deserve it.

It's October? Already?

Tempus fugit.

Especially this time of year. The first full week of October is over. Almost all the days on my calendar have some event, appointment, or reminder on them. How did THAT happen? Girl scouts and dentists and harvest fairs, photo appointments and fundraisers...thank goodness there's a party pencilled in as well, and I'm not hosting yet.

I love autumn. It's my favorite time of year, when the jack-o-lanterns and scarecrows and harvest wreaths go up, when the leaves crunch underfoot, and the unbearable oppression of late summer heat breaks into the kind of cool day most people would describe as crisp.

It's a gingerbread day today, I think. Under a deceptively sunny, blue sky, the air is cold. A good kind of cold. Somewhere in the neighborhood, someone is mowing his lawn for the last time of the season before the irrigation water is shut off and everyone shuts down their sprinklers for the year. It's somewhat incongruous on this gingerbread day, the distant sound of the lawnmower. It brings back almost wistful memories of spring days and the smell of damp, freshly cut grass. Almost wistful, but not quite, because today is a gingerbread day. And I love autumn.