Sunday, November 1, 2009

Best. Halloween. Ever

I do not like Halloween. Each year I resent having to buy stupid costumes (or at least accessories). I hate the creepy, scary teenagers who come trick or treating after I should be in bed. I hate the blood, guts, gore, and scariness. I hate the sugered-up kids (especially our own) who need no reason to inhale that much sugar in such a short amount of time. I seriously hate Halloween.

Now I am the activities committee chairman. Can you say "Simplify?"

We put orange plastic on the serving tables. We put purple plastic on the eating tables. We set out cups, bowls, spoons, knives, napkins, water, margarine, and salt and pepper. The young women set out a few scarecrows. People brought either chili or rolls. Not even any dessert, because really? Who needs more of something sweet on Halloween?

Then we played pop-the-balloon, crab walk, and fill-the-cup-with-candy-corn relays with the kids.

I wore Taylor's referee shirt and whistle, which was great for getting everyone's attention.

We threw everything away. Everyone took their dishes home. We put all the "stuff" back in the closet. We swept the gym floor thoroughly. We put tables and chairs back. We locked the church. We were home by 6:00.

Briana went to a friends' home. Taylor and Ashtyn went to a choir party. Landon and a friend went trick or treating. Spencer went to the temple.

I did not do makeup. I did not have to go out in the cold or snow (which we only have on my years to go trick-or-treating. This year, of course, warm and glorious). I answered the doorbell about 4 times. I didn't have to hide candy from our kids. At 8:00 I turned the lights out upstairs and went to the basement to read.

You can call me a humbug, and I won't even care. It was peaceful and lovely. And I didn't have to take anyone trick-or-treating for the first time in 18 years. It's a beautiful thing.


Amy said...

mmmm sign me up for Halloween with you next year!

Ann said...

I think you did a fab job of getting into the spirit of things, actually. No pun intended.