Kathy said around during nap time on November 1, 2007

Ok.  I’m pretty sure I am carrrrrazy for agreeing to post once a day for 30 days.  However, I am always looking for a way to push myself.  ”I’m a pusher Katie...I’m a pusher” (Bonus points if you name the movie.) I am by nature a quiet person.  In a social setting I can hold my own but I am not, by definition considered “outgoing”.  So to post, something relatively meaningful once a day will therefore be a challenge. 

I sometimes forget that just because I’ve been blogging for ....oh god I’ve been blogging for 7 years?? How is that possible?  Anyway, just because I have been blogging for so long I forget that not everyone really knows who I am.  Of course there are some people who have known me for a long time that read my site and they have probably heard it all.  But a lot of you (you lurkers too) don’t really know me as well as I think (or do you?).  So while doing this experiment I hope to at least share some things about me that I may have blogged about before but that haven’t seen the light of day in years.

That said… I know Halloween is over, but in an effort to avoid the onslaught of Christmas related bombarding that will inevitable suffocate us all, I’d like to bask in the Halloweenieness for one more day. Perhaps its a regional thing but Halloween surely has changed a lot since I was growing up.  (Hi, I’m 80 and my real name is Edna).  When I was a kid, Halloween went on for hours and hours.  You trick or treated until your bag or pillowcase was so full it gave you a backache to carry it and threatened to split at the seams.  You’d stay out so long that you’d come home covered in shaving cream and higher than Britney Spears on a Saturday night from the massive quantities of sugar you consumed.  It was a job.  You spent the last hour of the night sorting your candy and grouping it into “Guard With Your Life”,"Awesome", “Good” and “Will Trade for Snickers at School”.

The kids around here now all go to Halloween parties instead of trick or treating all night, there isn’t a stitch of shaving cream to be found, nor an egg in sight. And people, we got a cross.  People hand out crosses.  Where are the hooligans?  Where is the drama?  The closest I got was last year when some kids swiped my candy basket.  It’s entirely possible it’s just not happening in my neighborhood. But come on, what’s a woman gotta do to get her mailbox filled with shaving cream?