Boo!

With Halloween just two weeks away, America's children are giddy with the excitement about costumes and candy.  (Although let's face it, the costumes are fun but it's really about the candy.)   My kids are old enough that they have to manage their own get ups (and actually one is past the point of trick or treating altogether), a welcome relief from the days when they changed their minds almost hourly, well often enough that I would have to set a deadline beyond which there would be no more runs to the thrift store and dime store, when the glue gun and sewing machine would be off limits.

Meanwhile in the supermarket, it's all candy all the time. Regrettably, I have already eaten more than my fair share of candy corn.

And in the neighborhoods, the displays get ever more elaborate as the years go by.  It used to be that there might be one house on the block that went all out Halloween night by creating a spook house; otherwise, a pumpkin on the front steps pretty much signaled your holiday spirit.  But these days, folks are going all out from the cutesy harvest figures to some genuinely scary stuff.

It all starts out fairly tame.

Even Frankenstein here seems more adorably goofy than frightening.

Still more whimsical than scary.

But then things take a darker turn.

And finally one that would really scare the bejeezus out of some four year old princess or firefighter:

Trick or treat?  At your own peril.

Say What?

What feels different about being back in town after four years away? Major renovations to all the schools in our neighborhood for one, and a new public library where there used to be just a hole in the ground for two. The selection of Greek yogurts and hummus flavors have exploded in the supermarket. And my street now has restricted parking, for reasons I can't comprehend. We never had a problem with all day parkers from outside the neighborhood. Well it's a privilege that costs a modest amount annually and now allows me to all day park in front of houses closer to the Metro.

But the thing that has probably changed the most is my awareness to the unstated assumptions about language and popular culture.  Reading the newspaper isn't just about the vocabulary; you also have to get the shorthand that takes the place of the full back story.  The headlines are minefields of double entendres, metaphors, and colloquial expressions.  And doing a crossword puzzle requires that you have a certain level of knowledge when it comes to history, literature, film, and especially in America, sports. 

Here are just a few of the tidbits that have caught my eye in recent days.  Do you have others to add to the list?

"Shoe leather could prove key in 3-way N.Va. race"

"...like teams at summer camp in a three month long color war"

"Report cards won't be as easy as A, B, C, now"

"Office Pollyannas:  The pursuit of unhappiness"

"Caps gain veteran savvy between the pipes"

 

What's In A Name?

One summer a zillion years ago when I was perhaps 6 or 7 and my sister was 4 or 5, we were playing school with another friend.  And why not?  It was summer vacation -- the only time of year when you would play school.   At any rate, my sister, who had yet to go to real school, was playing the teacher and one of her "pupils" asked, "may I go to the rest room?"  Her response?  "Yes, but you can only take a nap for 10 minutes."  Because after all, what would you do in the rest room but rest?

Fast forward 40 plus years to this summer when we were entertaining some European visitors, who, while being fluent English speakers, were rather confused about what to call the room with the toilet.  The lavatory?  Too old fashioned.  The toilets?  Too blunt for a nation founded on Puritan ideals.  The wash room?  Perhaps if you are Canadian. 

So the rest room it is.  But take your naps elswhere.