Monday, October 31, 2011

All Hallow's Eve

This post is about my favorite Halloween. This was not a Halloween that took place when I was a small child, knocking on people's doors, looking for candy. No, no. This Halloween took place 2 years ago.


I was invited to a house party by a colleague; I often went to his house for his Halloween parties. I am often at a loss as to what to dress up as; this year was no different. One day I was walking through WalMart to purchase motor oil, as I was passing by the women's plus size clothing department, something caught my eye. It was a bright red cloak. My first thought: Little Red Riding Hood!!


I scooped up the cloak and tried to find something else to wear with it. I came across a nightgown that would do the trick. I quickly came to the realization that I'd need more than a red cloak and a nightie to pull off the costume. I needed a basket. Luckily, I had just bought a wicker basket; I put on a fake lid, fed a purse strap through and voila - picnic basket!!


The picnic basket ended up being quite convenient, I used it to carry my keys, wallet and alcohol as well as used it as something to prop my drink on when my hand grew heavy and/or cold. But more than that, I wanted the basket to be filled with things; funny things, interesting things. But I had no idea what those things could be; and then it dawned on me.


My friend always tells me that I have a lot of feelings. Partially because I'm a girl, but also because I'm me and he likes to point out my foibles. He says that because I have so many feelings they form a bundle. Even though I try to wrap my arms around them, I can't hold onto them all; there are just too many. I try, but there they are spilling out of my grasp and falling all over the place.


feelings


Maybe they wouldn't be spilling all over, getting dropped on the ground if I had something to put them in. Like a basket, perhaps.


I started making a list of things that I could put in my basket; things that represent feelings. I put a soft, plush stuffy in there, a rock hard piece of marble, something pokey, something smooth. I put pictures in there for nostalgia and various other things. I was pretty excited to present this joke to him.


I got ready for the party and walked out my door, just as a coyote trotted off my porch, down my driveway and into my alley. It scared the shit out of me, but I couldn't help but burst out laughing.


big bad wolf


I arrived at my friend's house and was partaking in the party; eating some food, drinking some drinks, chatting people up etc etc. No one asked me what was in my basket. Not even my friend and he's pretty snoopy. I waited, I even made a point to take things out and put things in right in front of him.


He still didn't ask, so I said "Aren't you going to ask me what's in my basket?"; I guess he hadn't realized that it was full of stuff. "Oh sure!" he said; he was pretty excited. That made me happy.


I started extracting out my items, pointing out the feeling associated with it. "Here's my soft stuffed animal, this is my hard marble, these are nostalgic pictures from my childhood...." He looked at every item, laughed where appropriate but I could tell he wasn't getting it. So I said "Do you get it?". He said "Yeah, you have things in your basket, I get it". I said "No, do you get it ?". He could tell that I was trying to drive home a point and he was clueless; he admitted as much.


I went through the items again, making each feeling really, really, clear. He still didn't get it. I said "Oh come on! They're feelings!!!". The look of realization that crossed his face was worth it. He burst out laughing and said that my costume was officially the best costume he'd ever seen. He also congratulated me on being such a good sport.


Happy Halloween Everyone!!

4 comments:

  1. It was probably you slurring your words that made it hard to understand.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Hey now, DoubleF, you weren't there... you don't know!

    *hangs head in shame*

    ReplyDelete
  3. Wait, you slur your words outside of work too?

    ReplyDelete

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