Trick-Or-Treat!

Today is Halloween. If I was a kid, that would mean that I would be bouncing my leg and looking at the clock and sighing and fidgeting and whining that time moved so slow. Then I'd run home from school, skipping with excitement.

The five of us - my friends Denise and Lisa, Carol and Linda, and me - we'd gather in front of my grandma & grandpa's house and we'd ready our pillowcases. The planning would begin. We'd look up and down the street.

"The 600 block sucked. Remember? The white house gave raisins. The tan house gave apples."

"Yeah, and we got bubblegum and Dum Dum suckers from that block, too."

"Okay, so we'll skip that block and hit it last if we have time."

We'd huddle and draw up the map in our minds - five little girls planning a strike that would impress an Army general. All of us undercover, a gypsy, a ballerina, a princess, a butterfly, and an angel. No one would suspect that we were on such a planned mission - commandos dressed liked princesses.

None of us would even mention the first two stops but we'd know where they were. We'd turn as a group and head to Max' house. Max lived three houses down from my grandparents. He and his wife were always fond of us girls. It was a good thing because we liked to go collect the chestnuts from his chestnut tree in the Fall. And we liked to run in his big side yard. And, we liked to pretend that his pretty brick house was ours so we'd sit in his front yard and have picnics. He and Miriam never chased us away like some older people do. They seemed to delight in the fact that we visited. And, they were always waiting for the five of us to show up on Halloween.

"Trick-or-treat!"

Max would open the door and made a huge fuss over us just like he did every year. Then Miriam would arrive with THE TRAY. Our eyes would grow wide because even though we knew that Max was going to treat us all like princesses, we'd still be surprised. Max and Miriam would first give us each a homemade popcorn ball and a homemade caramel apple. Then we would have our choice of a full-size Hostess cake (I always took the Suzy-Q) and then a full-size candy bar (I always took the Milky-Way)! Can you even imagine all that?! We'd thank Max and Miriam and leave the porch squealing like we'd just robbed the candy store. We'd run home and drop the booty off so it didn't get crushed beneath the rest of the night's haul, meet in front of my grandparent's house again, and then set out for the second house.

The second house would be a house that was never discussed either. We just knew it was where we were going. It was the corner house on the next block. We would have a two-fold mission, we were to collect our booty and to deliver an envelope from our parents. The lady who lived in the house was an old lady. A really old lady. Every year we wondered if she'd be there the next year.

"Trick-or-treat!"

We'd all smile when the old lady opened the door. She'd smile too. She'd drop the nickels into our empty pillowcases. We would be thrilled with the nickels - we would go to Rusty's, the corner store - the next day and buy some penny candy. I don't know why we needed to buy penny candy. We'd have a whole sack full of candy before the night was over but at that minute as the nickel tumbled into the cotton sack, all any of would think about was going to Rusty's to get fistful of candy...because Ray would always give us more than a penny's worth.

We'd thank the old lady and I'd hand her the envelope. It was only later that I learned that our parents would give her money every year. Halloween was a treat for her as well! I'm glad to know that.

Off we'd go on the rest of our mission. At the end of the night, we'd return with our pillowcases full of candy and our hearts full of incredible memories of a mission completed in a way that only friends could. Talk about shock and awe! It was sugar-shock and AWESOME!

The true treat of all those Halloweens is the memory of the costumes made by Mom & Dad, the time spent roaming the neighborhood with Denise, Lisa, Carol, and Linda, the kindness of Max and Miriam and the old lady whose name I never knew, and the laughter. Lots and lots of laughter.

(btw Dad, I finally figured out that the candy you sorted out that I "didn't" like when I was little was the candy that you did like...but that's okay, you earned it!)

Seldom Disappointed...but definitely sad today

I couldn't believe it when I saw the news that Tony Hillerman died on Sunday. I had just returned home from the annual South Carolina Writers Conference at Myrtle Beach when I heard the news.

On Saturday evening of the conference (just the night before), I'd had dinner at a table hosted by a literary agent. One of the topics of conversation was what authors we always bought in hardback. I immediately responded Tony Hillerman. His Navajo mysteries were to me like Harry Potter novels were to others. I would anxiously anticipate the release date and would be first in line when the bookstore opened on the Tuesday release day. I could not get enough of Lt. Joe Leaphorn and Officer Jim Chee. Another dinner table topic was audio books - did we like them and if so, what did we like. I said that I preferred ones read by the author and again referred to Mr. Hillerman's memoir, SELDOM DISAPPOINTED, as an example.

I became intrigued with the Navajo when I was a young child. My parents loaded up the old station wagon and off we went - a three-week drive from Aurora, Illinois, through the Southwest and back. We stopped at a little roadside stand on a Navajo reservation and my parents bought me a handmade Indian doll. The Navajo woman who sewed it told me stories of children my age on the reservation. I still have that doll.

The summer I graduated high school, I spent several weeks in Spain with some friends from my Spanish class. I was wandering through Barrio Santa Cruz (the Jewish Quarter) in Seville one sunny afternoon and happened upon an elderly Navajo man selling dreamcatchers. I sat with him for a while while he told me stories and drew one of the legends on a bookmark for me. I still have that bookmark.

Tony Hillerman took all of those stories I'd heard - and many more - and wove them into mysteries that not only kept me guessing, but also increased my desire to learn more about the Navajo way. It was because of him that I kept reading more, learning more about the Navajo and other Native American nations. It was because of him that I found another fabulous mystery author, Kirk Mitchell. Both men are masters at writing well-crafted Native American mysteries that honor the Indian legends, the natural beauty of Indian Country, and the strength and beauty of the Native American people while dealing with the real problems of reservation life.

Mr. Hillerman's mysteries are all top-notch. And, his memoir is one of the most interesting I've read. SELDOM DISAPPOINTED got it's title from Mr. Hillerman's mother's favorite saying. "Blessed are those who expect little. They are seldom disappointed." He writes in his memoir, "Looking back at life, I find I have often received more than I ever expected and suffered less than my share of disappointments."

At least for this gal, Mr. Hillerman never disappointed. Here's hoping that we all receive more than we expect and suffer less than our share of disappointments during our lifetime.

Thank you, Tony Hillerman. You will be missed.

Hoop-Dee-Do!

After being stuck forever (at least it seemed like forever) at the same number on the scale, the darn thing is finally down FIVE pounds. Five! 5!!! WOOHOO!!!!

That loss didn't come without a new, old trick. I got out my hula hoop. Or, more correctly, I took it off the hook on the garage wall. I've spent as much time bending over and picking the plastic ring up off the floor as I have spent spinning it around my ample hips. But I'm not complaining! It did the trick. It got me headed downward again.

I have a history with hula hoops. I learned the benefits of hula hooping years ago when I was stuck at a plateau. I'd lost a lot of weight but was stuck then, too. I don't know what made me do it but I picked up a hula hoop one day. It did the trick back then just like it did this time. I guess that's why I've always had a hula hoop hanging around all these years. The thing is, it doesn't do a darn thing hanging on the garage wall. It sure does the trick running circles around my waist though!

How 'bout you? What's worked for you in the past? More importantly, what FUN thing has worked in the past?

On The Level

I'm stuck. The scale hasn't moved in two weeks. I'm not a happy plateau camper, either. Smooth and level is boring for me. When I'm bored, I get in trouble...usually in the form of double pepperoni and extra cheese. That's a sure plateau breaker!

I've added exercise. I've stopped exercise. I've eaten more kiwis. I've eaten less kiwis. I've sucked down water like I live in the desert. I've done everything but stand on my head. The thing that has me most frustrated was that I was editing my memoir last night and realized that this is FAR from my longest plateau. I could be stuck at this weight for weeks. WEEKS! I think I must have lost my patience along with the all the weight I lost several years ago because I don't think I'm up for several weeks without the scale moving.

I keep reminding myself that, yes, the smaller clothes are fitting...but I can't help it, I want the freakin' scale to move! No matter what anyone says, it is a numbers game in the end.

I guess as bad as a plateau is it could be worse...I could be heading back up the scale. UGH! I don't even want to go there. I'd rather stay on the level. Boring can be good!

Excuse me. I'm going to go stand on my head for a while and think about that.