Halloween Treats

 

Did you know that holidays really aren’t for kids? I mean, why should all the fun be had by munchkins? Why not we adults who are gleefully entering our second childhoods? I have decided to go bold whenever I can. I am determined not to be a frump or a bump on a log. I will do all those things I did not do in my earlier years. And why not?

We went to a Halloween Bingo party at Spirit Mountain. It was fun, but I was disappointed that more people didn’t dress up. I was a very lucky mama, winning three times out of nineteen games. Even though I totally vamped out for my red riding hood costume, I didn’t win any costume prizes. That’s okay because I had a blast anyway.

My darling hubby did win most creative, though. He was adorable, all hunched over and handing out candy eyeballs from his monk’s money bag.

It was rather difficult for him to drive with that huge hump on his back, though, and check out the size of that spider.

 

We had a blast! Maybe that’s why I slept most of the next day. Just putting on my costume was a workout. Yikes. But as I said, we had a great time.

And I just gotta be me!

Apple Dumpling Gang Strikes Again!

 

We had so much fun on our Maiden Voyage . . . we could not wait to do it all again!

It is so much fun to run away from home, I don’t know why I didn’t do it as a kid (um, probably because I couldn’t drive this cool house on wheels yet, and I would not have gotten very far on my bike.). But all kidding aside (yeah, right) as a kid, I certainly would have missed the comforts of having a roof over my head and three squares a day.

Look, Ma, I can drive! Oops, the dash police are gonna get me. (Dash police are something like trunk monkeys.) “Honest, I was only going five miles per hour, Officer Puglet. Now, get off my dash, please.”

But, there is one thing I have discovered, and that is, if you have the right accomplice (aka friend) as your partner in crime (oops, I mean, hubby), you will never go hungry.

Being the ragtag bunch of hoodlums we are, before setting out on this voyage, we had to attempt pillaging and plundering at our favorite casino, Spirit Mountain. Besides, it was free cheese Tuesday, and who can pass up free cheese, especially when it is Tillamook? Not I, not I. All things said and done, the pillaging went in reverse, and that two-pound brick of cheese, albeit all natural premium white cheddar, cost us many times the going rate at any old Safeway.

Humph. I done been robbed.

Not to be deterred, we were still determined to take some spoils of war with us as we skulked away toward the beach, licking our wounded wallets.

Remember those crabby apples from a few weeks ago?

Well, we saw them again from the Spirit Mountain RV parking lot, and being the fruit thief he is, my hubby had to get his hands on some—and he drug me and my perfect (ha ha) reputation through the mud with him on his quest for those little red devils.

My new shoes will never be the same.

After we trudged through a field and a forest of overgrown trees of all kinds, we located the one apple tree we could easily get to, without having to scale walls and jump ditches. Wouldn’t you know it? Somebody beat us to that tree. It was stripped clean. Bummer. There were other apple thieves afoot.

Again, not to be deterred, Ken sent me back up to the parking lot, pushing my rump as I tried my darnedest not to slide back down the muddy hill. Why can’t Tinker be a Saint Bernard or a husky when I need her to pull me up a hill? Instead of helping, she stood at the top, with that silly grin of hers lighting up her face. If not a sled dog, at least I had a cheering section.

I then became the lookout as Ken made his way to a big tree, full of ripe beauties but mighty close to the parking lot. Security regularly patrolled the lot. Would they reprimand us for trespassing? Would they kick us off casino property? Would we be banned from next week’s cheese Tuesday? Or would they even care?

I’ll keep that tidbit under my hat for now. I wouldn’t want to spoil anyone else’s fun.

These little beauties are destined for greatness.

OH, CRABBY APPLES

Oh, crabby apples

We turned the refrigerator on

And it ain’t getting’ cold yet.

Trevor is rubbing his hands together

Thinking it’s my ice cream he will get.

You can’t take it with you

It’s already soft, just look.

I’ll eat the entire thing on the road

Nobody’s getting my Tillamook.

Oh, crabby apples.

What now? No tow lights for the Jeep?

I thought you had that fixed.

I guess we cannot leave in the morning

Until we get that problem nixed.

Oh, crabby apples.

Ugh. Another obstacle to our departing?

What do you mean the realtor is on her way?

The landlord could have given more notice.

How many more hassles can we add to this day?

Oh, crabby apples.

Get out of my face. Leave me alone.

Can’t you tell I have another migraine?

Yes, it is my obligatory weekly friend.

She thinks I am her bitch, but she is my bane.

Oh, crabby apples.

Finally, we are hitting the road.

I am so excited, I forgot to duck.

Bam, right into the corner of the TV

And unfortunately you know the word, f***

Oh, crabby apples.

Why can’t I get past this darned headache?

Why must I always bump my noggin?

It is a pain being a klutz and a clumsy dolt.

Maybe I should relax and quit hot-doggin’.

Oh, crabby apples.

We made it! We made it! But to where?

Spirit Mountain Casino, as a matter of fact.

A handful of cash and we are there, baby.

Granted my migraine is still fully intact.

Oh, crabby apples.

Crap. Crap. Crap. The crapper is broke.

Who would think you had to test the toilet

Before setting out on the first trip?

Gimme some water, I will make it flush, yet!

Oh, crabby apples.

Goodnight, baby. It has been fun.

Too bad the machines were tight.

They greedily took all our mad money.

But at least we should have a good night.

Goodnight.

Goodnight.

Goodness, good morning. Time for a walk.

Tinker is refusing to tinkle, but this you have to see.

Crab apples. Little red jewels on overgrown trees.

It’s an orchard gone wild. Just look at that tree!

Oh, crabby apples.

Those silly crab apples.

Today, I just cannot continue my pout.

Small and tart and unruly.

I can’t even remember what I was upset about.