10/26
Was woken up, got dressed, and away we went to church. We were later for Sunday school, but we sent the kids into their rooms anyway. They need it. When we got to the adult class we attend a quick survey throught the door showed a packed room. The Holy Wife wanted to go in. She was all ready to grab a couple chairs and make her way in. But…. I dunno, where are we gonna sit? If we go in there we’ll be interrupting a class that’s in session, and everybody will be watching us, and trying to accommodate us as we try to get situated. I don’t wanna go in there late like this.

The Holy Wife is feeling merciful. She suggests getting a cup of coffee. Well alrighty. We went down the road to a convenience store. I went in filled up a cup with decaf, sugar and creamer, and grabbed a blueberry muffin. The Super Wife likes blueberry muffins.

Back in the car we share the coffee. It’s okay. I rarely get excited about coffee. I like it, crave it when eating something sweet, but even so, usually it’s just good- nothing to make me act caffeinated.

She takes two bites out of the muffin and that’s all she wants. It’s a big muffin. If I’d known she was only going to take two bites I’d have gotten something seriously calorie laden. Oh well, maybe it’s only fair since I skipped Sunday School. There’s no way of knowing, but the muffin isn’t that bad, and it goes well with the coffee.

Back to church for the service. The sermon is regarding forgiveness. I hope God is in a forgiving mood. I was up too late the night before writing the rocket pieces. It showed and I know it. Can’t focus on the sermon, too tired. Focus on staying awake. I will not snore in church again. If I do a witchhunter might declare me apostate and I’d be executed. No wait… that’s Islam. I’m safe, but I still won’t fall asleep.

After the service we stopped at Burger King. There’s nothing like a big traditional family meal on Sunday. After reciting our wants, needs, and desires into the little orange box the voice in the box informs us we owe $9.67. The Superwife gives the heavily accented teller at the window a ten and some change to get an even amount back. He gives her a five back. Well that can’t be right.

She tells him we can’t be due $5 back when we gave him only a little more than the amount due. He grabs a calculator and starts feverishly pushing buttons. Numbers, they’re all numbers, and apparently none of them are convincing. Math can be like that.

Another member of the staff joins him. They analyze, plot strategies, punch more numbers, and eventually hand the wife six cents. Still wrong. They still owe us a quarter, but what is the time worth? We get our food and he says, “God bless America!” Whether that was heartfelt, or a defense mechanism it’s impossible to know. For all anybody could know he is an Islamic terrorist trying to destabilize the economy one drive-thru transaction at a time. But there’s no way to know, and suddenly the world seems a little more sinister.

We drove over to the Pioneer Village kind of place where they were doing a day-time Halloween trick or treat thing without yelling “trick of treat.” We buy admission for two kids. Ms. Pikachu is adamant that she wants no part in it. She is at the awkward age where she’s too embarrassed to wear a costume, but she still wants the candy.

Trainboy is done up like, what else, Trainboy. He wears jeans, flannel shirt, engineers cap, and a railroad pocket watch. It is good to be Trainboy. Trainboy is happy to be Trainboy. For about another four years anyway.

We walk from building to building. At each someone marks their location on the ticket and then another gives the candy, or whatever. Trainboy is happy. Ms. Pikachu is beyond embarrassed. She zips up her coat and pulls it over her head. The hood flops forward- she looks headless. She can’t see a thing and hangs onto her Mother’s arm to be guided around. The Superwife presents Ms. Headless Pikachu’s ticket to get her candy.

Every time she gets a piece of candy she lets out her sinister laugh. She thinks it’s sinister anyway. It really sound more like a constipated Woody Woodpecker, but who am I to complain? Many of the candy-givers speculate that there was a terrible accident and Trainboy was driving.

It seems like every kid costume imaginable is on display- some are amusing, some are cute. Many of the adults are in costume also. One of them is a woman in a civil-war era gown- bare shouldered, lots of bare skin. It’s a cold day, way too cold for a dress like that. But she’s a trooper in drag and looks like she’s enjoying herself.

There’s a boy of about four in a Scooby Doo costume. He looks like he was swallowed by Scooby since he’s looking out the dog’s mouth. He runs over to their family car, and as he’s running the head slides off sideways. It looks like Scooby has whiplash.

After we’ve hit all the stations and Ms. Pikachu has done her last sinister laugh her head magically reappears. She claims her bag of candy from the Superwife, and she’s happy, finally.

We head for home, tired, and wondering when the sugar-induced mania will start.
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