Dia das Bruxas

Halloween 2013

The first trick-or-treaters to come to the door were teens, using their school backpacks as candy sacks. There was a big clump of them, mostly boys with a few tough girls tagging along for the ride. No mask, face paint nor, remnant of a costume. I requested each one of them to repeat Trick-or-treat and asked what they are up to. One-by-one, they had to decide which candy bar they wanted and I dropped it into their bag. Fortunately, we got our share of Power Rangers, little cherubs dressed as Mickey Mouse, ghosts, Spidermen, princesses and football players to satisfy my heart. The doorbells rang and my neighbor clumped down the stairs with his own bowl of skittles and chocolate. The two-fer-one stop delighted the children, several families came by twice, as though I would not have noticed!

I have a handful of miniature-sized candies to last me a day or two and I am grateful to have met the guy upstairs and thrilled he seemed just as amenable to chatting with the kids and their parents as I was. We visited for awhile, waiting for the next troupe, standing on the front step with our brimming bowls of sweets.

Modest Mania

October 30, 2013

Nearly impossible to accept my shortcomings sandwiched between two social worker interns, like a slab of spam, waiting to be devoured. Collectively, we registered over 1100 families for a Thanksgiving turkey and the fixin’s, to be picked-up November 25^th between 9 and noon. Occasionally an incorrect directive spouts out of my mouth and one of the interns provides an accurate detail. I have no earthly idea where the faulty information comes from. Perhaps I am simply discerning whether the students are paying attention.

Shocking just how many of these individuals possess a phone number. Additionally they need to prove a legitimate address or housing and a photo ID, to obtain the substantial meal. It is quite an undertaking from the get-go, requesting donations from farmers, who are already struggling to make ends meet, local super markets, and cash gifts from those who can afford to give, to provide rations for most likely over 5,000 families in all. There are five more days of registration and a second location as well. The area, staged as a men’s dorm at night, for the gents who are in-between housing, is slammed with folks of all races, big and small, the majority voice their gratitude and “God Bless.” Cots are stacked on the far wall, cones deter the masses from running amok, tables and chairs greet the guests to sit and fill-in the simple registration form. I am humbled to silence in the aftermath of a mad three-and-a-half hour rush of food recipients. Once the intake is done, address verified and ID checked, they come to me (or my interns) and we double-check the data in our system, making corrections as necessary. I spew the details of pick-up day and wave the next person over.

People tend to choose the person who provides the most empathy. It is an interesting scene to witness. I am cheerful and engage the children, asking them about their Halloween costume and encourage them to return on the day of food collection. It will be a throng scene, I am sure. I invited my niece to join in the fray being on my squad of five volunteers. I will keep you in the loop.

Ms Fix-It

October 29, 2013

I am not very mechanically inclined. I can sew on a button, create a new straightish line with the fabric to make a hem, give me a picture to hang or answering machine to reprogram but don’t expect miracles with appliances and fixtures. Brain surgery would be easier.

Looks as though a bird flew down the topless chimney and got clogged in the furnace thingamajiggy. It’s feathers were jammed-up and cost the home owner a bundle. So, buy a new cap for the tube that sits atop the house and runs to the furnace for just over a hundred and save yourself some time, cash and chills. I suggested the HVAC guy go back to the office and send out postcards to all of their customers to sell the $122 caps and prevent future bird issues.  The skinny repairman told me this is his second call this week that amounted to bird bits in the flue. He also claims the cap gets rusted and falls apart before the landlord suspects a problem. I suppose the company would rather have a big dollar client but I think it is good will customer service to forewarn their people. Not to mention save some bird hides.

The neighborhood is a scavenger’s dream. I found a few carpet pads, electric drill with the charger and bits (not that I am certain how to man them,) little dish rack with the price tag still attached, a compost bin the size of a hard drive box, all abandoned next to the trash cans in the alleyways. I am thrilled and amazed as I zig-zag the big and little dogs around the streets, arms loaded with treasures. Thanks neighbors!  

Dreaded Cold

October 28, 2013

50 something in the house and I am wrapped up in a scarf, fleece jacket with my wool hat down around my ears. The squirt who came to fix the furnace was pleasant enough, despite the ruckus from the dogs, scrambling to bite his ankles and scare the daylights out of him. He entered the house with one arm outstretched, the other handling a big box with gadgets to repair the stubborn heater. He glanced up long enough to shake my hand and look me in the eyes. Impressive behavior from such a youngster. Maybe he is older than he appears. His mouth was set in a thin line when he came up from the basement quite awhile later. Claims the part is “big and expensive” and he’ll have to talk with the home owner before moving ahead. I agree and we simultaneously text, call, email, facebook message then wait.

I am tough, I can take the cold, I declare, not wanting to seem like a wimp, facing a 32 degree with possible snow flurries tonight for my house and dog sitting gig. As my toes numb, I decide I am a wuss and need to call in the recruits to borrow a space heater to sleep in comfort. Taste-tested a Paul Newman’s pizza (thumbs up for the four cheese flavor) and snuggle with the little white bad-breath bed companion. It doesn’t help that she has a tinge of skunk odor from being shot at awhile ago during an excursion up north, I’m told. Oh well, I have slept with worse. Just saying.

Barest of Bones

October 27, 2013

   Hung hundreds of t-shirts with BareBones skeletons, flying bats, pumpkin heads, buffalos, unique and artsy designs on tanks, short-sleeves, long-sleeves, hoodies, sweatshirts, jeans, aprons, knit hats, gloves, curtains and cloth bags. I was able to participate, in the audience, for the show. A spectacular play turns to circus, complete with actors on stilts, flame-throwing acrobatics and outdoor puppet extravaganza. It was incredibly cold with the wind, parked on straw bales in the middle of the park yet I warmed, as I served hot potato and lentil soups as well as chili, to the mob.

   One man in particular caught my eye, gaunt with eyes only for the bowls on my large silver tray, coming back too many times to count. He carried, in his other hand, a double-bagged weighed Lunds sack. He chose far too many servings of soup for one sitting, without getting seriously ill. I suspect he was storing a vessel in the woods to add more variety to his meager daily rations. Perhaps he has a family, hidden away in the forest, emaciated and wanting. A thin hand poured out of his long dingy green sleeve to grasp another Styrofoam (shudder) bowl to add to his collection, and he disappeared from the light, in the far reaches of the trees.

   The event was free, a donation requested but not always provided. An incredible number of volunteers were present, setting up at 5:00 and breaking down until past 10:30 at night. The Sisters Camelot catered the show out of their fifth wheel vehicle.  Wondrous soups, breads, hot beverages and organized chaos that partners with free food and drink. The crowd was close to capacity of 1060 and I suspect I touched at least a third of their lives by presenting t-shirt options, offering soup, spoons and a smile in the dark of night. Thanks to my good friend, who shared my woolen jacket, as we huddled on the bale to watch the show and spend time.

Lucky Jack O' Lantern

October 26, 2013

Got third place in the pumpkin carving contest. I didn’t have any fancy cut out from a book or the latest-and-greatest idea from the Martha Steward on-line site. Grab a sharpie and sketch a face, don a gigantic knife and carve away. Ask anyone who knows me well, I am quite competitive yet, over the years, have accepted my talents for face value-nada. I am not creative in the pumpkin carving manner and certainly would be a starving artist. My skills come in other forms and I can leave first and second place to those who care to collaborate with resources to discover the perfect carving. My pumpkin has a wobble and a lopsided face yet she will perch on the front stoop, awaiting the ghosts, goblins and Power Rangers, though I am told there are not many of those to be found. Won a skeleton ghost figure to hang in the doorway.

     Way too much candy, crackers loaded with Jalapeño dip and well-formed miniature carrots eaten tonight. The dog had his own party with a young injured Border Collie and ten year old glutton-for-attention Golden Retriever. The cat also had festivities at home with fresh cat nip and hand-me-down scratching structure.

     Looks as though I have new neighbors above me. All lights are on and the gate is left wide open. Aim to have a conversation with the culprits tomorrow. Maybe I’ll make a batch of welcoming waffles and they can sample my famous Wisconsin Maple Syrup. None sold today at the party, though I did make an attempt. Gotta work on my dog and pony maple syrup show.

I Wanted to be Jan

October 25, 2013

Here’s the story of a lovely lady, who is bringing up three very lovely girls, all of them have hair of gold, like their mother, the youngest one in curls. You get the picture, I sing the Brady Bunch theme song, once, with the children, as the crew is looking at one another from their independent boxes. One viewing is plenty. I return the Complete Season Two DVD to the library, knowing I cannot stomach one more episode. Expected to feel more nostalgic yet it only made me realize just how ridiculous the series is. I had a relatively sheltered childhood and the Brady’s seemed so cool.

Jan Brady most likely wouldn’t have walked off with her client’s house keys in her front pocket. I arrived home, fed the critters, ate a bowl of vegetable soup, emptied the grocery bags and on my walk with the dog, found her keys, nestled in the far reaches of my pants pocket. I will be in Mrs. B’s neighborhood tomorrow night anyway, vying for first place at the Pumpkin Carving Contest Party around the corner from her place. I have one more opportunity to get a stencil of sorts from my daughter’s talented hand, to create an image that more than vaguely resembles something familiar. She and I are grocery shopping in the afternoon so I will beg for her assistance. It is tough for me to draw recognizable stick figures, let alone the frightening features of a pumpkin head. My client feels sorry for me tonight when I moan about my predicament and suggested I ask her visiting son, Ron (who is older than me, for crying out loud, not some 7 year old kid,) if he would be kind enough to pencil something out for me. Of course, I declined in shame. Who can’t carve a pumpkin? OK, me. Perhaps if I had Marsha or Cindy for a sister, I would be asking them.