ghouls gone by...

Ahh, it is that splendid time of year again...Autumn, and all the fun that comes along with it! We Mags really dig on the best part- the cool, the crackly and the toothless. No, that wouldn't be my West Virginia ancestors, folks, but Halloween and jack o' lanterns! Whee! My girls are stoked for another haunt and are lined up to be a bride and an "elegant" witch this year (as in cute, A-line, bronzy dress and matching pointy hat, not the Christine O'Donnell kind).

Yep, after a très fun visit hanging out with the zombies at Halloween Express yesterday, we are a rubber recluse, a mouse and one eyeball richer. The table will have a few new goodies upon it this holiday. We had a ball hamming it up for pictures and whatnot. I'm surprised they didn't kick us out, telling us to buy it or beat it! T-Mag is a little slow on the eerie draw though...still a wee bit reticent of all things amputated and howling. She'll come around. She has to. I have big dreams of turning our humble annual gathering into one of those Roseanne shindigs like they used to do on her show every year! Mama needs to get a part-time job and hire some set dressers to slash the gourds and gorp me up a graveyard out in my double lot. That space is just going to waste anyway. That reminds me...the girls and I watched the cutest show on HGTV a few days ago- Halloween Block Party. Four designers each take a house in the neighborhood and go all out. Simply fiendish!

Daddy Mag's spider web and punkin' fireplace lights are at the ready. We're bloody dying to carve but are holding off to avoid smelly, moldy heads. Speaking of which, I have put my outfit together- a "Freudian slip", complete with cigar and psychoanalytic stare. Sigmund would be proud. Though I should have just saved the dough and gone as a vampire. What with my hormones being as mondo as they are, my widow's peak has become frighteningly bushy these last few months. Good times. I am having to "gel" it everyday! My poor body. Who knows what part will be next to expand or deflate? I think I read somewhere that the hairy pointage is a sign of spiritual enlightenment. I guess that would make me the Eddie Munster of Mother Teresa's. The trait of a villain..it is also believed. That's more likely the case with this Mag. No wonder my hub gets a scared look on his face when I'm brushing my teeth. Speaking of the rattling ball and chain, we have our late-night-after-the-kids-are-down, Hallow's Eve flick perched on top of the entertainment center. We scored The Others for a measly five clams the other day! Great movie by the way, for any of you out there interested in that kind of thing. Nicely put together, with a twist. And it was before Kidman started shooting all that junk into her face and was able to show some semblance of emotion on her mug. Ugh. Why do actors do that? Oh, well, that's another entry.

Rotting digits are crossed for no rain and a full moon. Last year's weather sure was a keeper. We are set to check out a patch this week..and a corn maze. They do labyrinths up right around these here parts, so that will be something fun to look forward to on Papa's day off. I sure wish I had an extra 139 bucks to spend on the creepy, mechanized rocking witch I saw yesterday for our front porch. Bummer. The peeps two blocks over from us, who really go over the top every October, splurged on a big, seven feet tall Hell Raiser Pin-Head, so that will serve as a freebie for us and a cauldron of fun for all the local goblins, I'm sure.

I am glad to say that no child will be harmed in the making of the costumes this year as I went the store-bought route for my two over at Walmart. I figured my hand-made mummy and crappy ghost sheet from last Halloween was enough abuse on my little ones. Being a complete loser in the Beaver Cleaver sewing dept., I made the mistake of washing Will's mummy wrap after our diabolical shenanigans last year and all the scraps came off. Literally- the small pink Henley and sweat pants were completely washed clean afterwards. I was broken hearted as I wanted to save it for their memory box. Being gravely Hobby Lobby-challenged, little did I know that particular garment glue was not water-proof, so all the little bits ended up in the bottom of the washer. Right along with my tears and self-loathing. Oh, well, I try, and that is all a mama-of-frankenstein can do, I guess.

All this monstrous thinking gave me a wicked flashback the other day, so I decided to put together a little retrospective of my munchkins and their spooky past. It seems just yesterday that I held my spidered bald wonder in her baby sling web. Pretty soon, there won't be any more sticky, little hands and snaggletooth smiles. It will be replaced with jaunts off to the Mall with friends and "Gee, Mom, get real. That's for babies!" Until then, I will treasure every magical moment..every memory. It is within each giggle and tiny step down that sidewalk, my heart and deepest dreams reside.