After a weekend of debauchery, we decided to take it easy on Halloween. Both Sleepless and I decided to go out on a limb and cook something, so we figured dressing up as domestic goddesses would be both fitting and effortless.
I grabbed my best muumuu – complete with front zipper and pockets – put my hair in rollers, grabbed a cigarette butt out of the ashtray, applied a facial mask, poured a glass of wine and let the domesticating begin.
Sleepless grabbed her Bettie Page wig, jeans, a sweatshirt, and then accessorized with an apron – the perfect outfit for baking, drinking and responding to tricking or treating. “We brought these for the party,” she told me and handed over a pumpkin full of sparklers and glow sticks. This Halloween dinner just got crazy.
Live Longer joined us, however, it was a last minute decision, so she didn’t come in costume. We encouraged her, though not much encouragement was required, to apply a facial mask and don a bathrobe for the photo shoot (a must with us). Ice Cream Man, though not in our ‘big’ photo shoot, wore a ball cap with a kitten on it as his costume. We’re all naturals when it comes to costumes so, in a sense, there really is no need for us to ‘dress up.’
As dusk passed, the trick or treaters continued to get older and older. Two boys, probably in their early teens, stopped by and, with the exception of their fedoras, did not appear to be in costume. “Nice fedoras,” I told them. “I’m life and he’s lemons. Together, we’re lemonade,” one of the boys said while proudly pointing to the writing on their t-shirts that read ‘life’ and ‘lemons.’ “Clever. I didn’t dress up,” I replied, cigarette butt hanging from my mouth and drink in my hand. “That was clever,” Sleepless commented and added, “We may have to be that next year.”