If you have been reading this blog long… or even once… it will not surprise you to discover that my mind …. albeit unique… it kind of warped… It is a beautiful thing. One symptom of said mind is what I like to refer to as a Swiss Cheese Memory… I call it this because it has so many holes. I was reading through the writers prompts this week and finding myself a little discouraged… it is Halloween Time! The prompt I wanted so badly to write about is “Who had the good candy? Share what Halloween was like for you as a child.” For two days I have looked at the prompt… waiting for inspiration to strike… as I do every week… and slowly I have come to realize something I never noticed before.
I do not remember a single Halloween in my childhood. At first this upset me… like I was missing something fantastic… or burying some deep dark secret… but truth be told… like most of my childhood… it probably was just not very memorable. I have snippets of thoughts around those holidays … I remember sitting on a cold stone entry way carving pumpkins… vaguely… also a bumblebee costume… although if it were worn by myself or a sibling I couldnt tell you… and then I remember 3 homes I visited (Most likely every year) and TADA! I have a post!
The Evans Home – the mother always dressed as a witch! full on green faced… pointy nosed and hatted… making her witches brew in her front yard… with what I recognize now as an adult to be dry ice and hot chocolate.
The Rasmussen Home – this mother would answer the door… sweet as could be… in her pretty witch costume… give us our candy and as we would scamper from their porch she would release a cackle that would make my hair stand on end as I attempted to jump out of my skin.
Last but not least… the gorilla… through our neighborhood ran a grown man dressed in a gorilla suit terrifying the older kids trick or treating… I don’t know how I know it was our neighborhood pediatrician… but I remember it is… and I loved the man. Dearly.
This post leaves a sour taste in my mouth … simply for the lack of anything better to post… So this is where being me rocks… it does really… and let me tell you about the my smalls Halloweens… which I remember vividly… and hope they do as well.
Costumes Galore… Pumpkin Carving… Roasted Seeds… a blend of home made and store bought costumes… Halloween parties thrown for Tall child… trick or treating for small… We have trick or treated with the same family for as long as I can remember… and in the neighborhood is the house decorated to the extreme… with scary clowns… and some guy in an electric chair… The house that one year… I kid you not… grilled pancakes in their driveway and passed them out nice and warm… and they were loved… and bizarre. The house with homemade root-beer at the end of their homemade spook alley made of refrigerator boxes and lights.
Now that is Halloween!!
Soooo I know I have been a little bit quiet here lately… Things are hectic… we got ready to go to Disneyland two weeks ago… then we went to Disneyland… Now we are recovering from Disneyland.
Obviously I have nothing to complain about… I mean… Hello… Disneyland… I am just explaining my lack of Blogginess….
We are alive and well… and back in action!
Stay Tuned!
Friday (October 11th) is my best friends thirty-eighth birthday.
Mr. Amazing
We’ve been through a lot together… you and I… the expression “married the minute we met” fits us so perfectly…because of our smalls and our devotion to them… because we thought of them first.
Sometimes I worry you think I married you for the children… but it is very important to me you know that You are my rock… my best friend… my lover… my hero… the love of my life.
Below are thirty-eight of the infinite number of reasons why.
I love you because:
Happy Birthday Mr. Amazing … I would have posted this on your actual birthday… but we are going to be on a plane!
What are you going to do next?? We’re going to Disneyland!!!!
me: <Yawn/stretch/puts an arm over her shoulder move/Drops Recipe in lap>
Cookie Wife: Aren’t you hilarious???
me: Smoooooth… I believe the word you were looking for is smooth
Cookie Wife: Or subtle…
me: Bahahaha!
Cookie Wife: Guess what is the best thing ever??
me: ??
Cookie Wife: Maple blueberry sausage!!! I’ll bet I could make it just as yummy with ground turkey!
me: MMMMMMMMMMMMMM I wanna eat it all!
Cookie Wife: I made blueberry pancakes, maple blueberry sausage, crock pot hash brown scrambled eggs & juice & milk.
Stumbled across this tree this past weekend… Fascinated we spun around and drove past again so I could get a picture! I LOVE THIS! Just for the sheer craziness of it!
Decided to Google it to get the story behind it and found myself quite touched with what I found
“A Shoe Tree has existed in the location for decades, people who have lived in Park City for that long say. There are various legends about who started throwing shoes into the branches. Several people who moved to Park City in the mid-1970s say the Show Tree predates their arrival in the city.
One of the prevailing legends holds that the Shoe Tree resulted from some sort of drunken fisticuffs. Someone might have thrown another person’s shoes into the tree, causing a fight, goes one legend. The shoes were thrown into the tree after the fight, another variation holds.
Another story that has been told involves a 1970s veteran of the Vietnam War who, having returned to the U.S., threw his shoes into the tree in celebration of being back in his home country.
Jeffery Novelle, who has lived in Park City since 1964 and now lives in Old Town, says he is well aware of beginnings of the Shoe Tree. Novelle was the first person to put shoes into the tree, he says.
Novelle recalls it being either 1969 or 1970 and his brother, a Vietnam War veteran by that time, was in town. He and his brother were walking up a tiny dirt road called Easy Street that ran through the area at the time. His brother was wincing from the pain of blisters on his heels, Novelle says, recalling that he suggested his brother take off the combat boots that were bothering him and put his feet into the nearby creek for relief.
The brother removed the boots. Novelle took them, tied them together and hurled them into a tree. They left them there. Within 1 1/2 years, people threw tennis shoes, ski boots, sandals and moccasins onto the branches, Novelle says. His brother’s combat boots remained hanging in the Shoe Tree for at least four or five years, he says.
“I thought the city would come and say this isn’t right, you’ve got to take them down,” Novelle says. “I’m surprised it’s still there.””