Friday, I awoke with what I thought was more of The Strep Throat, but it just turned out to be The Sore Throat with the Hacking Cough. Which the crisp night air at our block party did wonders for - by 10 pm, I was voiceless. But we met some cool new neighbors, and I was able, through sign language, to say how much we enjoyed having them all over.
Saturday, I took Peach to Nutcracker rehearsal and tied up some loose ends in preparation for Halloween and T-Bone’s birthday. After Mama Turista’s homemade cheese ravioli dinner, costumes were donned, and battle stations were manned. Peach was dressed as an obstetrician, with regulation scrubs, cap, stethoscope, and a newborn baby doll with the standard-issue hospital knit cap. Olive was a bumblebee, although she was very tempted to wear her pony costume from last year – apparently once a week, every week, is not quite enough.
We usually have quite a few trick-or-treaters, including some truckloads from points beyond the neighborhood, and this year was no exception. We ran out of candy around 8:30, but that didn’t stop the boldest of the bold from ringing and knocking until 10 pm. BTW, isn’t the International Sign for “No More Candy” a pitch-black porch? Thought so. And when did the ringing of the doorbell become accompanied by the immediate beating down of the door? Back in the day, we NEVER went to houses without porch lights on and we rang the doorbell ONCE, NEVER knocked on top of that, and LEFT after patiently waiting about 30 seconds. So what’s with all the urgency? Also, to those of you parents who insist on dressing up your babes in arms (fine) and strolling them around to “trick or treat” (please), I just have to say – really? We’re not giving out stacks of money here, y’all, it’s effing CANDY. Which, from the looks of things, many of you have a year-round relationship with anyway, so quit using your baby to extort Smarties from me and just calm the hell down. P.S. I love Halloween.
Sunday was T-Bone’s birthday – the Big One – and Peach and Olive made him breakfast in bed (cinnamon toast). I gave him a certificate for a Level Nine tour at Space Center Houston this spring. Fingers crossed, we’ll break bread with some real astronauts, for whom I’m sure he’ll have muchas preguntas. After that, Mama Turista and I ran some errands and went to see “This Is It” – which I LOVED. I wore one of my MJ pins even. Later, T-Bone and I met the Televisions for a joint birthday dinner at Lambert’s (meh), and stopped by The Highball* for drinks afterward (hoppin’ for a school night). The Boyz have big plans for Friday night (it’s Mr. Television’s birthday, too), after which I’m sure they’ll feel officially “in their 40s.” Lord knows I do, after this weekend.
* Note to Temperance Society girls – the fries and rings are now “reduced” to 7.50 a bowl. Think of the savings! And we saw Karrie having drinks with the chef and presumably discussing the difference between chicken and dumplings and matzo ball soup. Ahem.