Orange & Black.

The kids ready to trick-or-treat.
Aviator, Elfaba, Princess Leia (Hoth persuasion), Snow white
(Sorry for the bad picture)

Today was Halloween. Yesterday was our HUGE Halloween party at the Barn. We had a spook alley and apple bobbing, donuts on a string and a cupcake walk. We had a costume contest and Frankenstein and his Bride won. His boots had 6 inch platforms and her hair was 12 inches tall. The spook alley was terrifying. Full of all the things spook alleys should have: fog, moaning, screaming, spider webs, disembodied heads, jumpy skeletons and a coffin rising vampire. I went in during the day, in the light, knowing everything that was going to happen, and I still peed my pants. Practically. Also, don’t underestimate apple bobbing. I know it seems gross, and it sorta is, but the kids LOVE it. They cheer and clap and I made sure that I took all the stems off the apples so that no one can cheat. By the end the apple water has turned all colors of hair dye, makeup, and—hate to say it, but it’s true—spittle. Kids were running around with drippy faces and soppy hair. Needless to say, we had a spectacular time.

The Barn: before the party.

Tonight was trick-or-treating. We went in Grandma’s neighborhood, because she has more sidewalks and street lights and houses that give away full-size candy bars.

I love Halloween. I love all the people out going door to door. I love the costumes. The Jack-o-lanterns. The crickets chirping. The fog coming in. The stars coming out. And the kids, cautiously at first, and then with reckless abandon yelling, “Trick or treat!” Jane saying, as she’s trying to keep up with her older siblings, “These houses sure are scary, but we’re getting a lot of candy.” We only fell once (Jane), had to pee once in the bushes (Jane), and had to ride on daddy’s shoulders once (Jane).

The best part about tonight. The orange and black. Not the orange and black of pumpkins and witches’ hats, but the orange and black: colors of the San Francisco Giants. At every house, people in their orange and black t-shirts handed out candy distractedly, with one eye on the score—and one ear listening for the sounds of the crowds on the TV and radio. They called out the score as we offered our “Happy Halloweens,” and then hurried back inside. It’s a good time to live in the Bay Area. Everyone has a smile on their face and we are pulled together with a sense of solidarity, a common ground, a shared cohesiveness that Halloween can’t do on its own. So, for us, orange and black lasts a little longer, and even if we lose—hey, we made it to October. And that’s got to count for something.

The spoils.