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The Sleepy Eye Herald Dispatch
  • Every witch needs her broom

  • I love Halloween!
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  • I love Halloween! It reminds me of a time of simple innocence.
     
    For the past three years I’ve been trying to get Hubby on board to dress up with me and hand out Halloween candy to trick-or-treaters.
     
    It has never happened. Every Halloween we sit in the dark pretending we aren’t home, ignoring the door bell for trick-or-treaters who don’t follow the rule that if the porch light isn’t on, don’t bother stopping.
     
    Every year I whine and complain that I’m missing out on handing candy to little kids and every year Hubby says I don’t need him to dress up with me to hand out candy.
    I finally took his advice this year.
     
    I came home after a shopping spree last weekend donning a witches hat. Hubby cocked his eye brows when I walked by, but quickly reverted back to watching the football game on television.
     
    The purchase of the hat had been sort of impulsive, but the idea grew from there. While I had a hat, my costume was still fairly incomplete and I wanted to bounce the ideas I had banging around inside my head off of someone. To both of our disappointment, he happened to be the only person in the immediate vicinity to talk to.
    You see, Hubby doesn’t see the point of dressing up for Halloween and would rather not be bothered with such trivial matters.
     
    To convince Hubby that it would be fulfilling to talk to me about my costume ideas rather than watch the football game on TV, I figured I’d have a better chance if I dressed in the pieces I had for the costume. Getting his undivided attention away from the football game to focus on me for a few moments took a radical move.
     
    I stood in front of the TV.
     
    “You’re dressing up for Halloween this year?” he asked irritated when he saw what I had on. “Why?”
     
    “Because it’s fun!,” I told him. “You should try it.” 
     
    “I stopped dressing up for Halloween when I was in fourth grade,” he said.
     
    “Because you were starting to be teased about being a Viking’s line-backer every year?” I retorted.
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    “Because I outgrew it, which I see you haven’t,” he told me. “Being a witch suits you. Where’s your broom?” he smirked.
     
    “I broke it over your head the last time you made a reference like that.” I retorted.
     
    The commercial break for the football game was over and he looked around me to pay attention to the game again.
    So much for getting costume ideas from the scrooge of Halloween.
     
    I had already received the “go ahead and dress up for Halloween as long as you don’t make me join you,” approval, and to Hubby, that was really all that needed to be said.
     
    The day before Halloween I was talking to my sister-in-law on the phone while I was preparing supper. We were making plans on when she would bring our nephew by trick-or-treating. After the call ended Hubby was breathing down my neck.
     
    “It’s not enough that little ghosts and goblins are going to ring our doorbell until all hours of the night, but now you are inviting people to trick-or-treat at our house?” he asked incredulously.
     
    “It’s our nephew,” I reasoned with him. “You can hide in the mancave until it’s over.”
     
    The days leading up to Halloween had Hubby sighing in frustration and rolling his eyes at me in exasperation. Repeatedly he had told me that he’s not dressing up, he’s not handing out candy and he wanted no part of Halloween.
     
    Not even a bribe of his very own bag of Snickers could get him to change his mind.
     
    Repeatedly I found myself muttering out loud the mental check-list I had made to make sure I was prepared.
    Apparently “I want no part of Halloween” meant he didn’t even care to hear me talking to myself about it.
     
    The night before Halloween I practiced my makeup while Hubby rolled his eyes. When I was satisfied I came out of our room and stood in front of his line of vision of the TV.
     
    “Looks like a good night for a witch hunt,” he grunted.
     
    Too bad I hadn’t bought a new broom.

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