Flies in the fixtures: a great Halloween party

It's been about ten years since I've seen a trick or treater. In fact, I probably wouldn't know one if I saw one. Bill has always enjoyed this fact because that means his lunches will be filled with chocolate goodies for at least two weeks after Halloween. Maybe Bill's been doing something behind my back to scare off the little ghosts and goblins who come knocking at the door.

My most vivid and probably my last remembrance of a trick or treat visit occurred when Leo Addison's son Jarad was a little tyke. Just as the Ma and Pa Addison brought him to the door, Annie Dog appeared on the back porch, spewing blood.

She'd gotten in a fight with a raccoon on the other side of the house, and red stuff was shooting out her snout and splashing on anything in range. Little Jarad did not come back the next year. Now, Jared's long graduated from high school, where he was a student body officer, and off doing something impressive---in California, I believe.

That's the last trick-or-treat encounter that stands out in my mind, until last night's gathering at the Lovestead, that is. We had a houseful of folks who walked past skeleton heads and the flashy-eyed pumpkins to get some treats. No bleeding dogs greeted them this time cuz Annie and Kiwi were locked up on the porch----visibly insulted that they could not partake in the revelry of Halloween. Instead of little kids hiding behind costumes, all of our tricksters were senior citizens looking for a good time.

The neighbors came to the Lovestead for Halloween, and a good time was had by all. I was excited for the party because Geneva and Stan from next door were coming to our house from another party and would be dressed in costume. Jack Filipowski said he was coming as a farmer, and Toni from Selle said she was coming as an old lady with glasses. I think a lot of guests had similar ideas.

Turns out Geneva cast aside her cat costume from the earlier party because the whiskers kept scratching her. So, she and Stan came as Geneva and Stan. Most people came as themselves, which was perfectly all right and probably one reason that most people came. Virginia Murray reported that her hubby Bob just does not do dress-up or dancing. He didn't need to worry about either at our party.

My mother spent the day trying to look like a pumpkin, but somehow her pink blouse with the teal turtleneck did not exactly scream out, "I'm the great pumpkin." When she did show up, she was wearing one of my dad's hunter orange vests which brought her much closer to pumpkin conformity.

Isabel from the corner of Selle Road and North Kootenai Road brought a mask but chickened out about wearing it until just before the party ended. Of course, Geneva and I grabbed our cameras and snapped photos for documentation.

Ron and Beverly Kauble from next door had planned to wear "No Trespassing" signs on their backs. They were fully aware that other neighbors had dubbed them as the "No Trespassing Neighbors" because of signs surrounding their place. Ron said he'd run out of signs so they decided to come as themselves.

And, as themselves, all the neighbors now know that Ron and Beverly are about as nice as "No Trespassing" neighbors could ever hope to be. Furthermore, I think everyone at the party felt like they'd met the nicest neighbors anyone could ever hope to have-----the whole lot of them.

Except potential physical violence when Eva Whitehead tried to beat me up as I tried to introduce her to the crowd, the party went almost glitch-free. Well, there was one unplanned event. Ron Britton, whom I'd never met before, noticed the flies. No, they were NOT sitting on the Best Damn Pumpkin Dessert, Period. Instead, flies by the dozens were viewing the party and wishing they could get at that dessert from up above in the kitchen light fixtures.

I'd planned to eradicate those beady black critters before the party, but I also know about flies in autumn. Get rid of 100 and another 300 will take their place, almost with the blink of an eye. So, I figured I'd leave them there mistakenly reasoned that nobody would be looking at the ceiling.

Well, Ron did. And, when I joined his little klatch of talkers, he said to me, "I can take care of that for you." Then, when he pointed to the light fixtures, all eyes within hearing distance shot to the ceiling and beheld the little black critters sitting up there in their huddled masses looking back at us.

It seems that flies can get into the fixtures because the stuff up above hasn't been sealed up properly. Ron promised he'd come over sometime and fix the problem so I won't have flies coveting next year's pumpkin dessert.

All in all, I'd say this year's neighborhood gathering at the Lovestead was the Best Damn Halloween Party, period. The pumpkin dessert wasn't bad either.