Remember back when there used to be actual sitcoms on T.V. that were written by actual writers that were actually occasionally funny? Now that we’re saturated in Reality T.V. (you’re soaking in it) it’s hard to remember those old shows. But I do remember that every year there was a Halloween special.
Holidays were the best plot devices ever. Sometimes they were even combined with another plot device, the flashback, which consisted of a bunch of old episodes pasted together. So creative. Family Ties, The Cosby Show, and later on that dreadful Full House, the ship that launched the Olsen twins, all had Halloween specials.
But the most memorable Halloween special had to be “It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown” starring the Peanuts gang. You remember them. The bobble headed kids who acted like adults yet never seemed to age past the 5th grade. This one starred Linus, the neurotic one that carried around a blankie which probably got his behind kicked on the playground, although we never saw this. It’s hard to blame the kid though, having Lucy, the she-demon, as an older sibling. I’d probably carry mace.
Linus was obsessed with something called “the Great Pumpkin” because even Halloween needs a Santa Claus I guess. Everyone else thought he was crazy, which was a safe bet with this kid, but Linus believed! Meanwhile, the kids dressed up for Halloween. Good ol’ Charlie Brown dressed as a ghost with a holy sheet and got rocks in his Halloween sack.
Wait, what? I mean, I realize he has male-pattern baldness, but this is supposed to be a little kid, here. What freaking adult puts rocks in a child’s Halloween sack? I mean, what the heck? I’ve always imagined Charlie Brown coming back to school later on with a machine gun. Lucy would get plugged first for that football trick, but then he’d just rampage the rest of the gang. Chainsaw Peanuts Massacre. Now THAT would have been a great special.
Wait, I’m getting distracted here. Anyway, we are also celebrating the Great Pumpkin at our house. You see, I did this whole Martha Stewart theme with a pumpkin centerpiece (there’s not much more room on the table) and Halloween themed place mats and wall hangings and . . . yeah I’m totally full of it. Most of our family is rather apathetic about most stuff that requires our active participation. Except Thing Two. She is our party planner extraordinaire. You will party, whether you like it or not.
So we have a Great Pumpkin set up. Right now on the living room floor is a blue pillow case. Sitting on this pillowcase is a jar of candy corn, a note for the Great Pumpkin, and a little pumpkin with a face drawn on it. Oh, and the little pumpkin is wearing a pair of her underwear, which is supposed to be a cape. I was forbidden from taking a picture of this for my blog post. Now keeping the junk in the living room for a month was okay, but not on the blog. But trust me, you can’t make this stuff up.
There also used to be a green Halloween bucket over there, but poor Thing Two got suddenly sick, and that was the closest thing around. Though we’ve sanitized it, nobody is too eager to use it for treats anymore, although it might make a good trick for somebody.
Thing Two is going as Princess Leia this year. She has a costume complete with a honey bun wig. Suffice it to say, she is the cutest and chattiest Princess Leia ever. And at eight years old, she is almost as tall as actress Carrie Fisher, so she’s perfect for the part. The rest of us have decided to go as ourselves, which is scary enough.
I’m not sure if the Great Pumpkin will visit our house or not, but it will not be for lack of planning from Thing Two. I think she is even more faithful than Linus. I’m sure the special will be on again this year, as it has been every year since, like, Biblical times. But I’ll probably just watch Thing Two instead. She is more entertaining than any Halloween special.
*Note: I will take a temporary break from Rants With Alice because this time Alice wants to rave. Stay tuned this Friday for a review of Carrie Rubin’s book The Seneca Scourge.
|The flowers are plotting
`Didn’t you know that?’ cried another Daisy, and here they all began shouting together, till the air seemed quite full of little shrill voices. `Silence, every one of you!’ cried the Tiger- lily, waving itself passionately from side to side, and trembling with excitement. `They know I can’t get at them!’ it panted, bending its quivering head towards Alice, `or they wouldn’t dare to do it!’
`Never mind!’ Alice said in a soothing tone, and stooping down to the daisies, who were just beginning again, she whispered, `If you don’t hold your tongues, I’ll pick you!‘
-Through the Looking Glass
My husband and I looked out over a lush field one day. He said, “How beautiful.” I said, “Look, goldenrod.” I admit that I’m not a big nature freak. The great outdoors is fine, as long as there’s a working bathroom and some electrical outlets nearby. (Roughing it is staying in a tent in my backyard.) So it’s not that I don’t like nature. It’s that I’m allergic to nature. All of it.
I had my allergies tested recently. I am allergic to almost every tree, grass, or weed in existence. Green and I don’t get along. Also, I’ve got allergies to those cute little fluffy kitties and puppies. And birds. Don’t get me started on how much I hate birds. Even if their feathers didn’t make me cough and weeze, I’d want to strangle the chirp out of them.
When I go into a garden, I can’t stop and smell the roses, unless I want lots of sneezing followed by a possible sinus infection. I feel like Alice in the garden of live flowers – as if every flower were sneering at me and making rude comments. “Haha, you think your Zyrtec will protect you, eh? Eat pollen, evil flower-picking human!”
I could try to hide indoors, but well-meaning people are always bringing nature indoors. “Look at this beautiful house plant with the lovely mold growing in the soil!” (I also have a mold allergy. Shocked, aren’t you?) Or, “See my cute widdle poodle Snookums – he likes you, awwww.” Of course he llikes me, the little devil. I really can’t figure out the concept of animals indoors anyway. They shed, so you’ve got hair to rub off your clothes all the time. I don’t even like my own hair once it’s left my body.
|This is waiting under your covers.|
I am also allergic to cows and horses, which means I can never realize my one, true dream of owning my own ranch . . . cough, cough, okay the sarcasm hurts. But while I am not interested in gardening, farming, or ranching, I am interested in being able to breathe. I want to go outdoors and not be worried about breathing in pollen. I want to be indoors and not worry about the mold, or the dust mites (Never heard of dust mites? They are teeny, tiny disgusting bugs that leave their feces all over the place. In your carpet, your drapes, on your bed where you sleep. Think of that when you go to bed tonight.)
There are treatments for allergies and asthma. I’m on allergy shots, where they perversely expose you to stuff you are allergic to on purpose in hopes that eventually your body will quit reacting to it, or you’ll die, whichever’s first. Also, I take antihistimines and decongestants – you’ve probably seen them advertised by that bee with the sexy Spanish accent. (By the way, bees can also cause major, life-threatening allergic reactions and can hide deep in plants. Think about that next time you garden.) There are cases to keep your mattresses and pillows in that supposedly repell the bad guys, and filters you can buy to get the stuff out of the air – although how would one know if they really work, seeing as how no one can actually see the microscopic particles? “Just trust us,” the over priced allergy products people say.
Otherwise, about all I can do is avoid the triggers as much as I can. But they’re everywhere, so this can easily lead to paranoia which can lead to murderous thoughts toward your husband for leaving the window open AGAIN even though you’ve been married to him for twelve years and he knows how sick the outdoors makes you. He just likes the fresh air, ya know. Well, he’s not going to have ANY air if he . . . well, you get the drift. Allergies make you testy, and sick. They aren’t usually life threatening. (Unless it’s like peanuts. People have actually died from kissing a person who ate a pack of peanuts. Remember, protection people. Ask your partner to wear a mouth guard). They are, however, a daily hindrance, and can lead to frequent minor, but costly illnesses. So that’s one reason why I’m not a nature lover. Nature hated me first.
Also, there are no natural electrical outlets.