ALL HALLOWED OUT

For some reason, my small Ohio town decided to hold Trick-or-Treat night (aka: the true meaning of Halloween) on Thursday, October 27 (aka: NOT Halloween.) I have no idea what that nonsense was about, nor was I made aware of this information until after 5 p.m. on Thursday evening. I happened to catch the local news, and glanced, indifferently, at the listing of Trick-or-Treat times in the various communities. While I expected some to hold theirs over the weekend (which sucks for parents who want to go to Halloween parties, but is the best for kids who can stay up all night and eat their loot,) I never expected any adult fools would force the youngsters to go a-begging four full days ahead of the rest of the world. Therefore, I was lying on the sofa in sweatpants and an old hoodie, make-up free, hair in a high pony reserved for shampoo-free days, with nothing that resembled candy in the entire household. If the kids around here were into tricks, I was screwed.

"No candy? Redrum her! Redrum!!"

TWINKLES GIVES US THE NEWS

This blog post is brought to you by my new intern blogger, Twinkles! Normally, I wouldn't take on an intern, but her Uncle Pete made me an offer I couldn't refuse. So, PLEASE,  like and share this post as if my your life depended on it.

Twinkles the Intern

DECORATION DAYS

One of the biggest challenges of downsizing to our condo has involved holiday decorating.  Now, the husband and I have always been at odds when it comes to turning our home into The Museum of Seasonal Tchotkes, but that never stopped me in the past. Besides, our former house was large enough that it could handle the several boxes of ceramic figurines, plastic flora, and wooden fauna that represented every important milestone of each year. I decorated for Autumn, Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year's, Winter, Valentine's Day, St. Patrick's Day, Easter, Spring, Summer, and the 4th of July. (August was the middle child of months - ignored.) Alas, with almost zero storage and barely enough solid surfaces (unless you count the tops of toilet tanks,) those glory days of turning my home into a three-D version of an elementary school bulletin board are gone. But, that doesn't stop me from remembering the glory days.

A few well-placed pieces can get the entire household in the spirit!

PHONE IT IN

It happened to me: My iPhone deserted me when I needed it most.  Last Thursday, around 11 a.m. DST, I tried to open Twitter Mobile and got this eerie message: NO SIM CARD DETECTED. In the upper left hand corner, where it should have announced I had full LTE internet coverage, it said, "NO SIM." What was happening? In a panic, I tapped my Facebook Page. NO SIM CARD DETECTED. Email. NO SIM CARD DETECTED. YouTube. FOR THE LAST TIME: NO SIM CARD DETECTED. It was like a scene out of The Twilight Zone.  "Noooooo!" I screamed as I sunk low in the seat of the car.  My phone was telling me that it did not detect a service provider, therefore, would no longer allow me to make calls or texts, participate in social media, check the weather, shop on-line, read the gossip about Bradgelina, or Instagram pictures of lunch. The worst thing of all? I couldn't go to my Facebook page to ask for thoughts and prayers.

IS FASHION MY PASSION?

I've never been a fashionista, always relying on Coldwater Creek and Lands End catalogs to provide me with practical options.  This means that, on any given day, I either look like I'm ready to crew a sailboat or host a tea party with the other Stepford Wives. Though I have always longed for a signature style, any attempts were futile. I fault Catholic-school uniforms and big-sister hand-me-downs for stunting my personal-style development. Nevertheless, as I am easing on down the road to my 60's, I've decided it's time for me to create my "Silver Look," if you will. Therefore, I have been scanning fashion blogs and Pinterest pages searching for the wardrobe must-haves for the post-menopausal crowd.

BANDS OF GOLD

I love the Olympics. Though I have no athletic abilities of my own (unless swimming with the aid of a pool noodle is considered a competitive sport) I enjoy watching the youth of the world strive to do their best.  When it comes to the Summer Olympics, we witness human beings running faster, jumping higher, spinning in the air longer, and throwing farther. We see young men and women move through the pool like a sailfish and dive like a kingfisher. We watch them in their warm-up suits, tearfully accepting their medals as their anthems play. But, I wouldn't be a diva, invisible or otherwise, if I didn't have my issues. So, before you can shout USA! USA! here's my list of Things I Resent About the Olympics.

"I am judging you."

TURN TO STATIC

We got rid of cable TV. I'm sharing this here so you all might start a prayer chain or incense-fueled thought-circle to get me through the worst of the withdrawal. And, yes,  Of COURSE we have Netflix and Hulu and Amazon Prime, along with a smart TV and Roku. But, those are just technological Methadone to get me off the hard stuff. People, I'm hurting. Do you have any idea what it's like to wake up in the morning, flick on the television all prepped for a good, long channel surf, only to be grounded in the sand by the ridiculous 12 stations of antenna TV? I want my MTV!