I’m on the front porch, listening to the crickets chirp and steadying myself for the onslaught of greedy little, I mean adorable little kids (and not so little kids) in costume (or not). They’ll come by and stick out their bags or their plastic pumpkins or their pillow cases (can you imagine?) wanting candy. Lots and lots of candy. Some won’t even ask for it. They’ll just stand there. Many (and I mean many) won’t thank for it either.

By the time the night is over, we’ll have handed out about 400 pieces of candy. In our subdivision, there are about 150 houses. That means that our neighborhood alone will distribute 60,000 pieces of candy. Figure 30 pieces per bag and that’s 2,000 bags. At $2.50 per bag, we’re talking $5,000 worth of candy.

And that doesn’t take into account the other Halloween accoutrements around here. But back to the candy…

Let’s just say that the whole neighborhood got together and decided to use that $5,000 for something else. Not only would we save some tears over stomach aches and dental appointments, we could do something good.

For every $1 contributed to the Maryland Food Bank, they are able to provide the equivalent of between 6 and 9 meals to Maryland’s needy families and individuals. So that 5 grand could provide as many as 45,000 meals to our less fortunate neighbors.

I know, I know. Everyone loves Halloween. Well, everyone but me.

And while I admit that I am almost enjoying sitting out here on this beautiful fall night, I still am consumed with the gluttony and greed that surround this day.

I was reading some selected email headlines outloud last night. “$20 to Hear Mozart’s Requiem at the Meyerhoff,” I said. Andrew’s response? They may need to pay me more than that…

Ba Da Boom.

After an eternity trying to upload pictures today so I can rise to Gnightgirl’s challenge, I’ve given up. Yes, I’m a quitter.

Instead, I’ve posted on Finding Blanche Elsewhere.

Blogger, I’ll give you another chance.

Maybe.

I love shopping at thrift shops. Maybe it’s the hunt. I don’t know, but give me a good junk shop or Salvation Army or flea market (not the wholesale lot kind!) and I’m a happy camper.

Some of my very favorite things were bought on the cheap. Mod candlesticks from the 60′s, a funky pendant, silver hoop earrings ($1!), some great dresses…. But one of the big hits was this disco ball. It’s not full sized; it’s only 6″ or so in diameter. It was 50 cents, and I brought it home for the kids. I hung it from the ceiling fan in one of the bedrooms and waited for them to find it. A couple days later (what?) they saw it and were awe-struck. Wow, Mom, you’re the greatest! is what I heard. Shucks.

So there it hung for a while – maybe 6 months. And then one day, the boys had friends over. One kid got on the top bunk, grabbed the disco ball and pulled. The string disengaged, the ball fell. Beyond repair, in my estimation, I put it in the trashcan.

Days later, I found it back in the boys’ room, in a basket.

The other night, I had the boys go through their rooms, try on all their clothes so I could pass some down, and take the toys that crept up there put back in the basement playroom. After sorting through the piles, I once again was faced with the disco ball.

Having grown wiser with time, I threw it away in my bathroom trashcan – out of sight of the boys who have their own bathroom. (Not a pretty site, I might add. Three boys in one bathroom? Ugh. But that’s a post for another day….)

I had a cleaning crew come the other day. And what did I find after they left?

The disco ball on a shelf.

I suppose it’s meant to be.

You know the story. From Wikipedia:

Hansel and Gretel are the children of a poor wood cutter. Fearing starvation, the wood cutter’s wife—the children’s step-mother—convinces him to lead the children into the forest and abandon them there. Hansel and Gretel hear her plan and gather white pebbles to leave themselves a trail home. After their return, their stepmother again convinces the wood cutter to abandon them; this time however, they can only leave a trail of breadcrumbs. Unfortunately, the various animals of the woods eat their trail of breadcrumbs causing Hansel and Gretel to become lost.

Lost in the forest, they find a house made of bread (later versions call it gingerbread), with sugar windows, which they begin to eat. The inhabitant of the house, who is an old woman, invites them in and prepares a feast for them. The woman, however, is a witch who has built the house to entice children to her, so that she may fatten and eat them. She cages Hansel, and makes Gretel her servant. While she prepares to cook Hansel, she tells Gretel to climb into an oven to be sure it is ready to bake; but Gretel guesses that the witch intends to bake her, and tricks the witch into climbing into the oven, closing it behind her.

Okay, so that’s not exactly how my meeting this morning went. But close. We got there, hoping just to get the records of a specific project from the past 10 years. (I must add that this is 100% volunteer. This is not a paying job.) I had asked for them several times and was finally told that I could have them. IF (and that’s a big IF) I would come have the chair of the project for those years talk me through the contents.

Now, I have some experience with these things. I know that people become attached to projects and the way “things have always been done.” I know that there are some in older generations who feel that the new guard will simply destroy all that has been done before. That we are incapable of running a project without knowing what color the underwear was of the staff person who was the contact in 1994.

Not to mention that the redundancy of previous years is intentional and should not be changed. And that we should be careful not to give any volunteers too much credit. And most of all (and I’m not kidding here), have a good attitude. Be nice to the people from the firm that are giving us this opportunity and don’t cause conflicts. Don’t let your volunteers talk to them. This is a must.

I’m serious.

Lucky she told us, since we were planning to stroll right in there and make some serious demands, yo. (Can you see my stance? The kids would laugh!)

Now please don’t misunderstand. I am grateful for all the work that was done in the past. Really she did so much. More than anyone could ever expect. But she wanted to turn it over this year. But she can’t. Or won’t. Not easily.

But back to the Hänsel und Gretel reference. Picture this. We got there. A half hour late, I admit. And I’m really never late. I just messed up. Not a good start. So we walk in with our Dunkin’ Donuts coffees in hand. And the table is set with pastries. A beautiful spread of sticky buns and muffins. And freshly (well, half hour old) coffee. She had the table set with the good china and real silver. It was lovely.

First thought? This is going to be easy. Get the info, ingest some calories, take the book and run. I was wrong in thinking this would be painful. Oh, so wrong.

But was I?

No sirree Bob. We went page by page. Phone number by phone number. Back story by back story. Until I started thinking that being put in the oven would be a blessing.

And as we left, she called out to me that we needed another meeting to go over what I need to say to the key volunteers. Because lord knows, I can’t figure out how to train someone to do a few simple tasks. With a good attitude.

Halloween is almost here. So, as is traditional in the U.S. of A. in the 21st century, it’s time to think about Thanksgiving.

As I ran on the eliptical machine today at the gym, I perused the latest Woman’s Day. No, not my regular read. There was an article that talked about how to thank people for different things they’ve done for you. For instance, send a thank you note to the teacher who did something special for your kid. Okay. No need to send a gift if a stranger is kind. Okay…. Don’t go to a dinner party empty handed. And call the next day to thank. And it really said this…”The worst sound the day after a party is silence.”

Yikesorama.

Do I really need a magazine to tell me this stuff? Is there a person alive who needs this kind of information? Seriously! Name one person who doesn’t know this.

Observation #2. This issue is the same as the last time I read a Woman’s Day. Or a Ladies Home Journal. Or a thousand others. What, do they have a shared content deal that rotates in a 3 month schedule?

Off the magazine rant. Back to Thanksgiving. I am grateful for lots and lots of things. I hope that I express it all year. But if I’ve missed something or someone – thanks for everything! I plan to give some thought to what I’m most grateful for this year… (can you say Thursday Thirteen?)….

13 words I like that start with “p”

1) plethora
2) paraph
3) prosciutto
4) panacea
5) pacifist
6) paisley
7) palatable
promiscuous
9) perorate
10) persnickety
11) picayune
12) platitude
13) plunk

So, Tom…are you going to write a song?

I remember the pressure. Read a book and write a report. It had to be a certain length and cover specific things. And then there was the project. A diarama, a poster, a book jacket. Or a mobile. I hated it. Just hated it. And as you know, I don’t use that word often.

As my mother will attest, I cried under pressure. Some might say I still do, but I’d deny it. And while I suppose I could have planned my time out wisely – read the book and left time for the report and the project – I never did. Why? I’ll never know. But I didn’t. And I would panic and fall to pieces the day before it was due. Every time. I mean every single, stinking time.

So it might seem odd to some that, after some time in advertising and strategic planning, that I would find myself in essentially, the book report business. I read gobs (is that a technical term?) of information, articles, reports, and such and write about it in such a way that a reader (client) can get the gist of that huge data dump in a jiffy.

Sure, the subject matter is interesting. It’s industry reviews, competitive surveys, media audits, fact-finding. And it’s something different all the time. Plus, I do lots of other kinds of research and strategy work on top.

But still.

I took the one thing that stressed me out the very most, made me feel the least secure, made me cry….and I made it my life’s work.

I could take the position that this was a way to overcome my weaknesses. To stand over the cliff despite my fear of heights. Or I could say it was just poor planning.

Either way, here I am. Trying not to cry.

This is the view driving down the road that leads to my neighborhood. The leaves are much prettier in person, though….

I was thinking about the crisp air and how it helps clarify my thoughts. Walking outside on a beautiful Fall day, I feel so alert. So prepared.

Maybe it’s just that the cold against my face wakes me up. Or maybe it’s the array of colors that awaken my senses.

I don’t know.

But I like it.