Halloween, Mormon Style

Most of my readership is well acquainted with the concept of a trunk-or-treat, which is a safe way for kids to get a LOT of candy in a short period of time.  Instead of going from house-to-house (which carries risks of razors, poison, and/or abduction), you go to a church parking lot and go from trunk-to-trunk where people you know hand out their year’s supply of sugar.

In the Arlington Ward, everybody meets inside first for halloween-themed games, a cakewalk, donuts on a string, and a costume parade. Even Tim had to admit it was fun.

Sting or spray?  These gals came with serious candy bargaining power.

Lance and Mason came as a couple bums.

 

Ivy lived up to her “Little Stinker” costume by snitching a cupcake from the cakewalk table.

Don’t worry, she snitched one for Squiggles, too, because she’s darling like that.

Bryn taught Squiggles her infamous “Bee Dance.”

To see Bryn’s 2009 rendition, click here.

The time finally came to go outside and collect some cavities.

Squiggles loved the entire evening, but didn’t catch onto the candy overload concept.  She was content with a couple pieces of candy.  After that she just wanted to run around like a crazy head in the parking lot. 

Ivy, on the other hand, was a pro at getting candy. 

Squiggles is sometimes confused about who she loves most.  She would not go near me if Aunt Cami was within a 50-foot radius.

Mason mostly hung out in his stroller and let people bring candy to him.  Smart, smart boy.

And even though the neighbors will probably be handing out cyanide coated razors inside their candy, were going to go old-fashioned trick-or-treating on Monday.

To the lighthouse

...there is a coherence in things, a stability; something… is immune from change, and shines out … in the face of the flowing, the fleeting, the spectral, like a ruby…
~Virginia Woolf

I’m not sure what was so nice about the day – it was not extraordinary in any obvious way.

We went for a drive to see the fall foliage, an endeavor that mocked us with every passing mile since the leaves along New England’s coastline have stubbornly refused to change their hue, as is – don’t you agree? - their autumnal obligation.

So we improvised and drove along York Beach, where surfers braved the cold, cold water:

And made our way to Nubble light:

I climbed down our rocky perch to watch the waves crash against the shoreline – a pastime of which I never tire. I spied some seagulls who may have been looking for food, but I like to think they were just enjoying the view.

I climbed back and watched Tim playing with the baby. He would scoop her up and blow on her belly or swing her around his shoulders, and she would giggle and wiggle her way out of his arms, running away while laughing and squealing until he caught her again and the sequence repeated.

They were moments that escaped transience – time ceased being linear as I watched my daughter running, giggling, playing, trying with all her might to reach a rain puddle to splash in before being caught by her daddy.

My heart hurt a little.

Once we were thoroughly chilled, we went to one of our favorite diners, replete with old-timer Mainers. We chatted with the locals and ate blueberry pie, made with tiny, fresh Maine blueberries. Really, the only blueberries worth eating – they are so sweet and flavorful it’s a little shocking when you take a bite.

While we were waiting for our clam chowder and pie, the baby wanted Tim to draw a picture of “Mama,” so he obliged with this flattering work of art – note my eyebrows (Tim thought he was soooo funny):

On the way home, I turned on a CD with baby songs. Tim really loves those CDs:

Family. Isn't it about... time?

Of such moments, she thought, the thing is made that endures.
~Virginia Woolf

To apple.

Have I mentioned that I hate the city?   

On Columbus Day, we sought fresh air and fresh fruit in Harvard, MA at a small farm called Phil’s.    We brought Squiggle’s best buddy Nana (aka Tim’s mom) and paid Phil a ridiculous fee in order to pick his apples for him (I just tell myself the fee is for the pleasure of breathing his non-smoggy orchard air).

Squiggles was beside herself with apple giddiness.  She doesn’t actually eat apples at home, but seemed to take a “when in Rome” stance.

Tim helped her reach the fruit, which she was pretty pleased to be allowed to pick, since she’s not allowed to pick my flowers or herbs.

Did I mention Squiggles and Nana are BFFs?

I like apples as well as the next guy, but mostly I enjoy just walking around.  IN THE FRESH AIR.

Hey look, Mom, another apple!

Anger Management

In this video, Miss Squiggles demonstrates her strategy for dealing with life’s rainstorms.  She goes through increasing stages of frustration until she starts to lose her temper; fortunately, she regains control and retreats to her happy place.  Kind of.