Friday, October 31, 2014

Real Halloween

I have a little dream of one year decorating up my little house proper for Halloween. My unbridled ambition and the grandiosity of my plans likely protect me from ever having to do it. I'm intimidated too right off the bat by all the stone carving. There would be a lot of stone carving: tombstones, monuments of beautiful angels sporting subtle fangs, cracked human heads of stone with film projected onto the sculpture, making it come to mysterious, oddball life. You know, like in the haunted mansion. I suppose I could learn stone carving, or, better yet, I could meet some stone carvers and trade them some short essays. Would anyone out there like to trade several weeks of carving and a bunch of marble for some thoughtful ruminations on library work?

When I say my grandiosity protects me from having to decorate properly for Halloween, I don't mean I don't want to do it. I'm up for it, but I do need a massive grant or a lottery victory at the very least because of the wiring I imagine. Electric work is expensive. I'm thinking enough wiring so that if all the orange and low purple and moody green lights were spread out in a straight line it would be long enough to reach the moon, preferably the full moon, with enough wired lights left over to howl at it once they've arrived. I'm not actually sure if the Twin Cities electrical grid will support that level of power. Plus I need real bats, which probably are expensive to rent in season. I suppose I could save money if I raised them myself in an attic. 

Well, since I'm sort of working up a shopping list anyway:

One black cat that gets along well with bats.
Four hundred feet of antique wrought iron fencing, accompanying very elaborate gate.
One pumpkin patch with enormous pumpkins intertwined with large, carnivorous plants.
One hundred holographic projectors, mainly for ghosts swirling around amorphously.
Animatronic, roof harnessed, full size flying witch and assorted special effects devices.
Thirteen industrial sized fog machines.
Assorted live toads.
A quality toad wrangler.
One giant kettle.
Black lights and 30 gallons or so of assorted black light paint.
One 80 foot tall remote operated anthropomorphic Oak tree.
Five hundred creepy candelabras.

That's a start. I need candy too. We've always been partial to Valrhona around my house. Large bars. 

I'm not giving out just any candy, not from a house that looks like the one I'm putting together.

Maybe next year.

Or the year after.


  1. Next year I'll have Gracie's steamer trunks ready for next year's voyage upriver. Does the Natchez go up to the Twin Cities?

    1. Oh yes! The Natchez landing is so close to my home I don't even need to use the stagecoach!

  2. Excellent! She's already practicing the Monster Mash and will be playing it on the calliope as the boat approaches.

    1. I will never cease to marvel at her vast array of talents!


If you were wondering, yes, you should comment. Not only does it remind me that I must write in intelligible English because someone is actually reading what I write, but it is also a pleasure for me since I am interested in anything you have to say.

I respond to pretty much every comment. It's like a free personalized blog post!

One last detail: If you are commenting on a post more than two weeks old I have to go in and approve it. It's sort of a spam protection device. Also, rarely, a comment will go to spam on its own. Give either of those a day or two and your comment will show up on the blog.