I'm getting a little too old for Halloween. It used to be more of a thing—you know, little kids all dressed up, and I wasn't sure what it was all about, but they smelled like chocolate, so I was pretty sure it must be good.
Now, it's still interesting to see them walking down the street looking strange and still smelling like a dessert treat, but I don't really feel up to getting up every time they come into the yard.
Joan put this scarf on my head to get me in the mood. It didn't work. Shane is sitting by the candy dish, which is on the little table by the front door, hoping no one will come and take it away. I don't know why, since he's not allowed to eat it. See, it's true. You always want what you can't have.
Me? Well, it's sort of just another day for me. I must be getting old, perhaps seeing life in a different way, losing my taste for empty calories.
The yard is a good place to sit; it's my vantage point from where I watch the children come and go each year—all dressed up, smelling like chocolate, swinging their plastic bags filled with forbidden pleasures.
Happy Halloween, Juno
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