Halloween-er (I Said Weiner)
Issue 56
I’m very lucky to live in Halloween-heavy neighborhood. Not because I love to decorate but because the pople come to me.
This year, like most, I dressed as myself. I stood in front of my garage door with a plexiglass table, a candy basket, and five lanterns with “real fire” to keep the pigeons from engulfing me in all directions (it didn’t work).
I lasted one fun-filled hour before I paid the kids to take the candy so I could hit the sack.
But first, as characters approached my candy distribution station, I engaged them in a round-robin of pretend. I showered them with cheerful Halloween nonsense, acting as ridiculous as I cared to be. And I cared to be rediculous.
I had what they wanted — candy — and what I wanted — control. I used both to my advantage and had a blast.
If a mermaid’s wig was beautifully braided and her tail shuffled as she walked, I shrieked, “I want hair just like yours, AND turquoise is my favorite color.” If a Minion asked how many pieces of candy he could have, I said, “For you… two.” Then I’d look at his friend and say, “And two for you. And you and you and you.” I said it repeatedly until Emma told me I talked too much. Then, I kept going.
I placed the candy basket on an invisible table, so the kids thought the candy was floating. It wasn’t intentional, but eventually, with enough comments, I pretended I planned it.
One group of giggly girls approached my table. My mouth cried out “Halloween-ers” before my mind realized I was calling children weiners. “Weiner” they repeated to each other. Frightened to meet the eyes of their parents, I looked up to see the adult with them was one of my oldest friends, and first-grade crush Kurt with his daughter and her friends.
“Excuse me ma’am, did you just call my kids weiners?” he said. “Oh, thank god it was you!” I said. Then we snapped this photo.
By 7:45pm I had packed up my invisible table and closed the station. I put a sign on the door that read: Boo, no more candy and mama’s asleep!
I enjoyed Halloween more than ever this year. So simple. So joyful. So darn easy. More of this, please.
This Podcast Episode
This episode of Simon Sinek’s podcast, A Bit of Optimism is fascinating. The way we date today is a blip on the radar of relational history. Online dating is a new phenomenon. Dating itself is relatively new. But our expectations of relationships haven’t caught up.
“Your relationship will never be happier than you are.”
Eeek.
Haz-mat
The Shakti Mat. I ordered this slice of accupressure hell to see what the hype was all about. It hurts. It hurts real bad, but… the stinging does subside and I did relax. I even felt effervescent when I got up. Given its 22,000 reviews, I’ll keep at it. There’s more to experience, I’m sure.
They’re offering 20% off any mat. Apparently, it’s World Kindness Day.
(It wouldn’t be very kind of me to say something cynical about all these made-up days these days, like Daughter Day and Dog Day and First-Crush Day and Who-The-Hell-Cares day — so I won’t.)
Title 55
The title of last week’s letter was Never Eat Shredded Wheat. Nobody knew what it meant. 🧭 It’s a mnemonic I learned, and never forgot, for north, east, south, and west. The issue had several references to directions sprinkled about. That’s how it’s done, folks. Sometimes it only makes sense to us and that’s okay.
Sage Words I Have Not Taken — Yet
I learned this wonderful piece of magic at work recently: “Read what nobody else is reading, and you'll say what nobody else is saying.” —David Perell
Just because I haven’t taken the advice doesn’t mean it’s not worth passing on or that I won’t take it eventually.
Speaking of, add the word “yet” to the end of your sentences and change the way you talk to yourself. Notice how much more kind it is to imply you haven’t yet, but will.
I haven’t ended this newsletter — yet.
Hello weiners! Stuck in my head forever.
And the floating table ... genius
I still say, “never eat soggy waffles” in my head 😝