As my camera flash blinded yet another campfire guest, the family set up a hoot and holler about what I could be for Halloween. Paparazzi. Yeah. The flash on our new camera can make anyone look like a zombie for a few seconds. And I was giving it a workout. My husband Mike said next year I could just paint me a black eye [and an old busted up camera] to go with my hat and my 10 megaton flash, and I’d be good to go.
Actually, we had our get-together the day after Halloween, which is All Saints Day (typically the first day of November). But that’s the earliest we could get everyone together and it was not raining and just cold enough for a jacket and a fire. Perfect.
We had long, pointy sticks from tree limbs, the fire, hot dogs, slaw, baked beans, potato chips, and marshmallows. A match made in heaven. It was good and dark by the time everyone arrived. While us ladies were inside getting prepared, Mike and Dickie (Montana’s dad) were out by the fire swapping ghost tales for Montana, our age 12 granddaughter. She was impressed. And deliciously spooked.
I wore an orange T-shirt which announced that I was “Scary Without A Costume”, which glows in the dark. Mike wore a skeleton t-shirt whose bones also glowed. Sister Katie bundled all that wealth of hair under a cheap Wal-mart Goth wig, black lipstick, black nail polish, black dress, and black net stockings with skeletons on them. Oh. And skeleton earrings. Katie didn’t get to finish her costume because somebody kept calling her house and asking was she ready yet. Hrrumph. Uh . . . anyway. Besides the wig slipping and itching and being blinded by the mamarazzi camera flashes and freezing to death, she had fun. Not quite comfortable with how to cook a hot dog over a campfire, but she managed.
Katie’s husband Randy came as a member of the Duck Dynasty, smoking his awesome pipe and wearing his granddaddy’s silk string tie, about a 100 years old. Last year Randy came as a martial arts master and our Asian pastor came as a cowboy. That was quite a juxtaposition.
Then Montana and Randy proceeded to try to sing Bon Jovi’s Dead or Alive. One knew the verse, the other knew the chorus. Then we sang another cowboy song – “500 Miles Away from Home”. “He’s always 500 miles away from home,” said my daughter Michelle. “What’s the point of singing it. He ain’t ever gonna get there.” I said, “That may be the point.”
Daughter-in-law Tammy got there late and alone — Henry wasn’t feeling well, so this time Tammy and I didn’t try taking a picture of the moon like we had on other Halloween cookouts. We called it “shooting the moon”. It was always just a little tiny dot in the black sky. This year, it was pitch dark. No moon at all — visible, that is.
Then all us girls tried to do a can-can by the fire. Randy got into the act to begin with, then when the camera turned on us he wimped out. Anyway, since we couldn’t get our can-can working together, I just cropped the picture and got our lovely faces. I think I’ll title it — Something Wicked This Way Comes. Original, huh?