Sunday, October 31, 2010

Step Into My Web...

Hello, my dearies!
Welcome to the Witchin’ Kitchen where I
will brew up tales of Hollow’s Night of Yore.

Many harvest moons ago, there lived a
of four in the beach city of
Santa Monica, where
the foghorn bellowed
and the dense fog swirled
in ghostly waves,
bathing the city in an eerie glow.

Halloween was spooky in our neighborhood.
Houses all stacked like dominoes lined the
unlit street,
with narrow passageways
between the houses.

I was convinced a witch lived in one of the
along the walkway. Her pointy nose and
eyes always peered through the parted
lace curtains
at the window anytime I walked by.

Mom loved Halloween.
She wore her huge black witch’s hat, and tied
sheet around her.
Raisins dotted her face like old, gnarled warts.

Michael was a pirate and I, a witch--what else?
I’m not sure if my Halloween bucket got pirated
and pillaged by Michael as I stealthily tried to
hide my treats.

Years later, we were living in the hot San
Valley where thoughts of Halloween
were brewing yet again.

We decorated the house with ‘pumpkin tumbleweeds’.
Mom had her warty, powdered face and dad had a
few surprises of his own.

When the grandkids came over Halloween night,
he told them to go to the closet...
Suddenly, the kids were screaming--dad had
his prosthetic
leg propped up in the corner with
an old shoe attached.

That always gave dad a laugh.

As I later had my own family, I strung cobwebs,
skeletons and spiders, stuck a candle in a
cow’s skull, and played spooky
howling tapes from
the upstairs window that could be
heard outdoors.
Needless to say, there were few kids coming
to the door!

It’s that time of year again, in another town where
we have Halloween parades up the street of our
gated community, and a few kids will come to claim
treats. I have an overfilled pot of candy waiting--
and maybe, a trick or two…

Thursday, October 21, 2010

I'm in Love With You...

After 38 years of marriage I've learned
a few things, particularly ways
not to make
a husband gag:

* Don't stuff yourself into a bikini meant for Twiggy.

* Don't pierce anything other than your ear lobes--
and a nice juicy steak!

* Don't wear mini-skirts if you're not a 'mini'.

* Don't wear ankle bracelets that look as though
you're under house arrest.

* Don't wear midriff shirts that float over
The Island of Flab.

* If your 'skin' doesn't 'fit' you like it did
when you were
first married, ban yourself
from those drive-thrus!

* Avoid or don't over do Botox-ing and facelifting--
he didn't marry a manikin.

* Too much sun equals skin like a dromedary--
only camels belong outside that much.

* Keep a sense of humor--it can throw your
off-balance when he wants to start complaining...

* Don't 'show' too much--'cracks' are for sidewalks!

*Treat yourself and life like a fine wine--
let it age naturally.

To my husband, Tom: Happy Anniversary,

with many more to come.

I'll love you "'til the 12th of Never..."