old as dirt

Tonight is Halloween, and people everywhere are cleverly dressed and trick-or-treating their way across the country.

I feel like I am watching it all on TV. This year, probably one of the first, I am really noticing that I am no longer as close to the "treaters" ages as I am slowing sliding towards the parents' ages.

I went to 4 different drugstores in the city to find the coolest "kid" candy (unlike my mother--love you--who geniusly would buy mini Snickers and Good 'n Plenties, because that's what she likes, dammit!)

I grabbed my stash and set myself up for the evening. Bought Roy a truly heinous mask, at his request, and was thinking pretty highly of myself.

Once again I got ahead of myself.

I am officially an old fart who gets ahead of herself. Get me one more cat or 12, and I'll be that crazy lady who wears a giant Santa sweater everyday and has moles with giant hairs sticking out of them.

This beautiful image just recently occurred to me as I passed out some treats one of the mothers tried to persuade her zombie daughters to "grab the Junior Mints for mommy."

Since when did Junior Mints, the candy of savvy taste buds everywhere become the stuff of parental wanderlust?

I mean, really? Junior Mints? Maybe they've had their heyday, they were in Seinfeld and my Father loves them....hmmm




Maybe this isn't so improbable.