Happy Spook Day! I wish I could report on Erin's costume choice for tonight, but it's not that simple. First, I would have to explain to you the game that Erin, Nico, and Adam made up that is played either in her room, in the fort, in the climbing tree, or on the kayak in the lake. Then, I would have to tell you how each of them is from a different planet (Alconia, Reaconia, and Batconia) and each has a different pair of jobs: Nico is captain and hunter; Erin is the mapper and the herbalist; Adam is the navigator and the look out and maybe something else, too. Then, I'd have to figure out the purpose and roll of the myriad of shiny, colored pebbles scattered around on the floor that are clearly important to the game (I'm pretty sure they are not food or weapons. They may form some sort of mysterious map or coded instructions for mission completion. Or they may just be magic). Even if I could figure out the little stones, how could I explain the electric piano, and the mission-crucial role it plays?
So, imagine you are in my shoes this evening, walking door-to-door with three children begging for candy. Erin is wearing red shoes, red tights, a short, pleated skirt made out of aluminum foil, a red turtle neck, and a shiny silver cap bestrewn with jewels. She is carrying two bags: one to hold her ill-gained loot; the other stuffed with maps, herbs, and shiny stones. The other two will have on something completely different, but equally, uh, idiosyncratic.
Here's how the conversation goes:
Purveyor of Candy: "Look, Harold. What cute trick or treaters. What are you supposed to be?"
Erin: "I'm Reacon."
Nico: "I'm Alcon."
Adam: "I'm Batcon."
P of C: "Oh. . .are you from a tv show?"
P of C: "Oh, well I haven't seen that movie."
Erin: "We're not from a movie."
P of C: " Oh. what are you then?"
Mom (daringly dressed as a business professor, tries to clarify the situation): "These are characters from a game called Gateway Explorer."
P of C: "Ah, I get it. A video game."
The children (together): "No. It's not a video game."
P of C (with diminishing enthusiasm for the conversation) stares with a blank look on her face, hoping to eventually light it up with recognition: "A board game, then?"
Mom (jumps in, hoping to switch the light bulb on): "They invented this game, you see. They're from different planets. They have different jobs and wear different colors. They go on missions determined by the electric piano and the shiny glass pebbles kept in a treasure box . . ."
P of C gives out more candy to shut me up and quickly turns off the porch light. Maybe I've stumbled on a winning strategy.
Not to run the sartorial theme of this journal entry into the ground, but Erin and I have another problem that involves wardrobe choices: Chet Edwards invited Erin to the A&M/OU game next Saturday. His wife and two sons are flying in, and we will join him and his family at the game. So the big question: what do we wear? Red for the campaign (probably not, since that's what OU will be wearing)? Maroon for the home team (a likely choice, but one that will involve a shopping expedition)? Or green (the color that looks best on Erin)?
To have such high class problems! Can you believe that Chet would spend the last Saturday before election day with someone who had his vote from the start and someone who won't be able to vote for another nine years, instead of with a high rolling donor or someone still sitting on the fence? Wow!
In other news, those of you who laid down bets on Team Buenger with the local bookie last week can now collect. PharmaCare approved Erin's prescription for Celebrex (indefinitely BTW, so we don't have to repeat this process every month or even every year) for the normal copay (which happens to be $155/month less than they wanted us to pay originally). She took the first dose last night, and headed off for developmental soccer training. She didn't mention any side effects. However, when I asked her after practice whether her stomach bothered her enough to warrant a banana milkshake on the way home, she was sure that her tummy had been at least that grindy.