If you only know me online and have seen that I’m an optimistic, (usually) happy-go-lucky kind of person, it might surprise you to know that I’m not a fan of holidays. In fact, complaining about holidays is one of my talents. Here’s why: holidays and all of their pomp and circumstance get in my way. They disrupt my routine, my clean(ish) house, everything. I don’t usually mind the actual day of any given holiday; what bothers me most is the period of time in advance of each holiday, time that is spent preparing and decorating and spending money for one “special” day. I have always found much more happiness and enjoyment in random days on which we happen to have some spontaneous family fun, not planned holidays.
In fact, in typing that out I even surprised myself because now that I think about it, it does seem odd for a Type A planner sort of person to enjoy the heck out of something that happens randomly or with little notice over something for which time intensive prep time is spent.
Anyway, decorating for holidays is one of my least favorite activities ever, so I hardly do it. My fourth blog post ever back in October 2007 was called “Pitiful”, and it was about my Halloween decorations. (“Decorations” isn’t even the right word.)
On the scale of how much I like or dislike holidays, with my birthday being on the most favored end (not just because it’s my birthday but also because I don’t have to do anything to prepare for it) and the entire Hanukkah/Christmas season being closer to the other end, Halloween is nearer to my birthday (in date, too!). I don’t have to decorate for it (even with pitiful things); really all I have to do is buy candy and then hand it to adorable children who show up on my front porch. My candy bowl is currently full and sitting on the kitchen counter waiting for 4:00pm, when our neighborhood’s “official” trick-or-treat hours begin.
Eager anticipation aside, I’ve been dreading today a little bit. This will be the first Halloween spent without Roxie barking her fool head off at all of the people invading her territory in between begging me to drop just one piece of candy on the floor for her so she can run off with it. This year I really missed our yearly photo session, in which she would humor me for ten minutes while I dressed her in twenty-five dollars’ worth of dog costume elements just to snap some pictures before removing all of it again, so she wouldn’t run off with clothing items in her mouth, too. (She hated wearing anything other than a simple neckerchief, and only did that on occasion.)
Today is also odd because I won’t have Jim here at home with me to complain about how he “hates kids” (he doesn’t) and “hates handing out candy” (he doesn’t). Answering the door on Halloween is always more fun with him around.
That said, I’m not wallowing in misery, and I’m not closed off to building new traditions. Over the next couple of hours I’ll be trying to come up with one for Dylan and me to follow this afternoon that doesn’t involve handing over all of the snack-sized Almond Joys and Reece’s Peanut Butter cups to the neighborhood children while still looking extremely generous and maybe even having a little bit of fun before we start handing out double candy just so we can turn off the porch light and enjoy the rest of the evening in peace.
Whoppers and Kit Kats, anyone?