The Trials and Tribulations of Having a New Phone...

Tonight, I got a new cell phone. It's been two years since I got my last one. Prior to my last new phone, I'd had a lovely little phone that I'd loved. Then I'd accidentally left it on a phone while en route to Los Angeles to visit a friend.

So, on that trip to Los Angeles, I'd gone to the cell phone store and picked out a new one. I had previously had a normal phone that could access the web but wasn't a 'smart phone,' per se. I ended up with a Blackberry. I don't know why I picked the Blackberry other than the fact that it was pink and I was momentarily blinded by the fact that it was a Blackberry and it was cool.

I hated that Blackberry. It wasn't that I hated the Blackberry in general but I'd chosen the cute one that had a smaller keyboard than normal. This meant that there were two letters per key and when you tried to text/instant message, you often ended up with things like "yat" instead of yay or "ygr" instead of "the".

In addition, I had the unfortunate accident of dropping that Blackberry down the toilet.

Twice.

To its credit, it still worked. Both times, fortunately, it was a clean toilet. It was an unfortunate accident resulting of my putting my phone in the back pocket of my jeans and not realizing it would lead to calamity when I went to the bathroom.

Both times, I managed to use a combination of a space heater and rice to dry it out.

Both times, the phone continued to work once it had dried out. Nevertheless, I still have a text message from my younger dated August 8, 2048 that came as a result of dropping my phone down the toilet the second time. I'm not going to delete that. I mean, how often do you get a text message like that from the future?

The fact remained, even without the toilet incidents, I was not a fan of this Blackberry. I decided a few months ago I liked the shinyness and niftiness of the Droid. I mean, for goodness sake, it said "droid" when you got a text message! How cool is that?

Then I changed jobs. Then I found out that my office would pay part of the fees of a Blackberry if I used it for work as well as for my personal life.

The Droid seemed less appealing. Not so unappealing I didn't do massive amounts of research to let me know why it really was smarter to get a Blackberry than a Droid.

I finally decided that while the Droid had nifty apps like The Food Network App and that one where you can scan any barcode and find out what it belongs to, the Blackberry was a solid communication tool. When I looked at my history of apps and such, the most I ever really do is surf the web, instant message people and check Facebook.

So, when I went into the Verizon store tonight, I knew I was going to get a Blackberry.

I did. I think I like it. I've also got a new number which is a bit alarming. I've been clinging to my Los Angeles area code for the longest time, not willing to relinquish the last vestiges of that former life.

Then, recently, I realized that when you give local people that number, they look at you like you're from Mars. Or Venus. Or someplace else. Which you are because they really only know their area code. Everything else is alien. It's just the way things are.

So, I decided after two years of being a foreigner in the Midwest to give in. I finally gave up my L.A. area code and now have an Ohio one.

This means I have to let everyone who calls me know that I have a new number. This could be done simply by sending a text to everyone.

I tried to do that. Unfortunately, on my new phone, the 'delete' key looks a lot like the 'enter' key. It took three texts to let people know I had a new number. After the third, I felt rather like a twit. I mean, how many texts does it really take?

Still, people are being nice. They've responded. I figure the ones that want to stay in touch will. The ones that don't...won't. It's ok by me. It's the way of life. Every now and again, we do a little purge in our lives. Sometimes accidentally. Sometimes on purpose.

Now all that remains is to figure out how my new phone works. It has a lot more buttons. It has a lot more dangers. Still, I think with perserverence and diligence, I can conquer it. On the plus side, it's also harder to dial which means it's less likely that something, say, like a puppy named Sookie can steal it and call someone which used to happen with my old phone. Nothing worse than accidental dog dials.

Except, of course, having to talk on a phone you know has been dropped down the toilet.

Twice.

Here's hoping I'm a little more careful with my new phone.

I'll keep you posted.

Happy Wednesday!

The Impossibility of Explaining Daylight Saving Time to a Couple of Puppies...

It was feeling a lot less like Christmas today.

Even though we woke up to a lightly frosted world, the day warmed up so much that a jacket wasn't necessary. I'd say this was odd given that it was pouring down with snow on Friday night but this is the Midwest where you can have an 80 degree day in December and a 30 degree day in May.

It was nice that it was so warm outside. It made walking the puppies more pleasant. Lately, it's been so chilly, I've started to think gloves might be necessary. The puppies don't seem to mind. I haven't put their winter coats on them yet but when the temperature drops again, it'll be time.

They won't like it but there's a lot of things they don't like. There are things they don't understand...like daylight saving's time.

It's very hard to try to explain to little furry creatures- albeit cute little furry creatures- about daylight savings time. When their basic understanding of the human vocabulary can be boiled down into several meaningful words ("Rory", "Sookie," "Biscuit?", "Outside?" and "Walk"), explaining the concept of why it's dark at 6:15 p.m. and why it's now light when we get up is sort of impossible.

They don't care. They are waking up an hour earlier than the clocks read. Yes, we as humans try to adapt to the fact that 6 a.m. was 7 a.m. when, a few days ago, 7 a.m. was 7 a.m.

When I got home this evening at 5:30 p.m., it was already getting dark. In their crates, they stared at me accusingly as if to say, "MOTHER! It's late! Where HAVE you BEEN?"

They don't understand that it's not late. It is, in fact, the usual time that I get home from work.

When we walked this evening, it was by twilight. There were no sparkly vampires, thankfully, only a weirdly hovering Larry who was standing by his car as if waiting for something but I couldn't figure out what. For some reason, in the half-light of day/night, he couldn't seem to figure out who I was even though it wasn't that dark and there's no one else in the neighbourhood that I know of who has two twin black and tan dachshunds and takes the route we do. I left Larry to his own devices and decided that making conversation was probably not the best idea.

The puppies seemed to enjoy their twilit walk though. We saw a couple of bunnies which, of course, sent them into jubilant attempts at trying to catch the bunnies. We saw a couple of squirrels. Rory dived in a large pile of leaves. She also investigated a pile of tree branches that had been trimmed and left for pickup and managed to get tangled up in them and toppled the pile. We attempted to tidy it up but we walked away quickly.

Now, even though it's not very late, the puppies seem confused as though they don't understand why I'm not nested on the couch ready to watch TV so they can cuddle with me and warm their chilly noses. A week ago, I would have been ready but this week, it's an hour earlier.

I've tried to explain it to them. The only problem is that honestly, I have a bit of trouble explaining it to myself. I know it was a method of saving energy back in wartimes or whatever but, really, do we need it to be getting dark as we're coming out of work? Couldn't we, you know, just let 5 p.m. be 5 p.m. instead of 4 p.m.?

It's all rather befuddling, I find. No wonder the puppies are confused.

Ah well, they're get the hang of it soon enough.

I hope.

Happy Tuesday!

It's Already Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas...

It's working. This stupid thing of retailers to begin the holiday season is starting to work on me even though I'm stubbornly refusing to admit it.

I know that because of last year and the fact that consumers didn't spend as much as retailers needed for the holiday season, this year they're trying to make it longer in hopes that it encourages us to buy more and spend more.

So, instead of waiting until right before Thanksgiving, this year, the weekend after Halloween, the holiday season is in full swing.

I'm trying to ignore it. It's rather hard.

For example, my mother and I went out this weekend in hopes of going to The Fresh Market, Target and Kohls for a leisurely browse. I didn't need anything new but it's quite fun to look, just in case that perfect sweater/top/jacket/pair of trousers/shoes is out there.

We started at The Fresh Market. This is a store that's rather like Whole Foods for those of you who aren't familiar with it. It's like one of the Whole Foods you find in one of the smaller cities like Cincinnati, rather than the two-story mega versions of Whole Foods you find in L.A., London and the larger cities. It's mostly organic. The prices are high but everything's rather....fancy. They have small produce, cheese, bakery and meat sections but what they have is the upscale things, the fancy cheeses, the gourmet produce and the luxury meats. My mother and I are both Food-Network inspired cooks and we love to browse stores like this to see what they have.

So we decided to go to The Fresh Market on Saturday to see what fancy produce they had and to just have a look. It's an expensive store, just like Whole Foods, but when the ingredients are good and hard to find elsewhere, sometimes it's worth the splurge.

We got inside and I got excited. Figs were on sale. I love figs. I miss fresh from the tree figs like I used to get in California. I picked some up. My mother and I navigated to the produce aisle which is along the wall. Oddly, there was a line of people in front of it. I'm talking one of those lines of people militaristically waiting, very seriously, for something. It made it quite hard to get to the produce or even to browse.

Then we actually looked at what they were waiting for. Well, it turned out we had stumbled into The Fresh Market's holiday open house sampler day. All around the rather small store were stations with free samples of things that you might serve during a holiday party. This meant it was impossible to get anywhere to look at anything. We weren't about to join the line of free samplers because the line was long and we had plans for lunch. However, we were still wanting to browse but everywhere you turned, the line wove around each part of the store. When people had their free samples, they simply hovered where there was space to eat so they could move on to the next station. This was lovely for them but not the smartest choice for those of us that simply wanted to shop.

The whole store was also decorated for Christmas. They had the Christmas cookies and baking supplies adorned with holiday glitter so we couldn't miss them. The Christmas coffees and teas were on prominent display. There was the scent of cinnamon everywhere.

It was beginning to look a lot like Christmas. I stubbornly fought it. It got harder as I saw all of the accoutrements that go with the holidays. I love Christmas. I love all of the things that go with Christmas. When you're being invited to jump in with both feet and tempted by the things you love, it's hard to ignore it.

My mother fought against it too. Of course, she ended up with two chocolate advent calendars in her cart. In her defense, they're quite hard to find and with all the grandchildren, they love opening a door that counts down to Christmas each day during December.

Still, by the time we left, I was starting to think I really needed to get on with my Christmas shopping.

After lunch, we moved onto Kohls. Well, naturally, there were Christmas songs playing. There were the gift displays. Christmas trees were everywhere. It was hard to find the every day clothes that you want to buy yourself amongst the clothes that are clearly positioned to be gift options to others.

Which leads me to one of my problems with Christmas beginning this early. Generally, once the holiday season begins and I start buying gifts for others in earnest, I have a general ban on buying things for myself. This is because a) it's a time for giving to others and, b) because if I see something I like, it provides a nice option to tell someone when they ask for a Christmas list.

Because of this ban, if I do contemplate buying myself something, guilt follows. Sometimes, it's overrideable. Like last year, I bought a jacket for myself because it was $7 and it was a puffy jacket and just how often do you see a deal like that?

Yet still I had the guilt.

This year, it's only the first week of November. Having started a new job in which I'm required to wear business casual, I'm still not fully stocked in my wardrobe. This is because my last job allowed me to wear jeans, t-shirts and other casual attire. While I have some business casual wear, I'm still looking to expand.

However, when you go shopping in order to browse for possible work wear and you're confronted, head on, with Christmas, you suddenly feel...guilty.

In Kohls, my sudden need to start buying gifts suddenly kicked in.

It began to be combined with a sudden desire to sniff the sparkly sugar cookie candles and lovingly pat the peppermint-candy soaps that were on display. It made me want to "aw" over the cute snowmen that were tempting me with their snow and sparkles.

In short, the retailers were starting to win.

Then we went to Target. The dollar section was filled with Christmas items. Everywhere, there was some small indication that it was time to start Christmas shopping. The pet aisles had cute antlers to adorn your dog/cat, stockings filled with chew toys and Christmas packaged dog biscuits. The clothing section had t-shirts emblazoned with holiday designs. The toy aisles had swelled to include all of the items that call out to children to be added to lists. Then there were the Christmas aisles, lit by the glow of many trees and their multi-coloured lights.

Yes, it was, indeed, beginning to look a lot like Christmas.

Even the weather decided to help. While I was driving to my parents on Friday night, the clouds were heavy and 45 minutes into the trip, big, fat, beautiful snowflakes began to fall...and fall. I ended up driving through what felt like a blizzard where the giant, cascading flakes came so fast that I could barely see between them.

By Saturday morning, in time for the beginning of this holiday injected shopping trip, the ground was sparkling white with a thick layer of frost and the remnants of the snowfall the night before. It looked like a winter wonderland.

It's hard to resist the call of the holiday season. I'm trying yet part of me feels like it might be ok to just accept the inevitable and not mind the strains of "It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas," when I hear them in every store.

Yet, there's still Thanksgiving to think about before Christmas is really under way. Still, maybe it wouldn't hurt to make a mug of peppermint hot chocolate and start my Christmas list and Christmas cards.

Eek gads. See what the retailers have done to me?

Happy Monday!

The Nature of the Job and of Humans...

Well, it's Friday tomorrow. It's been a strange week. I've been at my new job three weeks,almost. My past two weeks flew by. This week has gone more slowly. The process we have at work is that the two account managers try to get clients to ask us to fulfill their IT personnel needs. In turn, me and the other recruiter in the office get job descriptions and we're in charge of finding people to fill the jobs.

The process we follow is to try to locate people. We then phone screen them. We try to bring them in for an interview. When we're confident they're a good fit, we submit the person's resume to the account manager who decides at that point if they can 'sell' the job candidate to the client. If so, they forward the resume. With luck, the client likes the candidate and they get a job.

If they get a job, we call it a 'start.' As recruiters, we're required to get 3 starts a month, if possible. If not, we don't get in trouble but we do have to make up for it and keep working.

It's harder than it sounds. This week I had my first couple of 'bad' days. I had managed to get a candidate an interview at the jobsite. This is good because he's jumped most of the hurdles. At that point, it's up to him why he can prove that he can do the job.

Except then my candidate got another job offer so he backed out of the interview. He'd told me he wasn't that close to getting a job.

I then had to scramble to find another candidate. I found one who had called only two days before desperate for a job. I'd told him I'd see what I could do and so the minute an interview slot opened up, I fast tracked him and he got an interview with the client.

Guess what? He got another job too and cancelled on his interview. I felt hoodwinked. I'd fallen for his desperate story and sold him to my boss without feeling completely comfortable that he was the absolute best match. I think he could have done the job. I think he would have done it well but I bypassed other resumes in order to help him out.

I learned a couple of lessons this week. Mostly, that candidates lie. They need a job. I understand that. They don't want me to think that they don't need an interview even if they think they might have a job offer. So they tell me they're still looking and then, boom, I'm left holding their resume while they're about to start another job.

Secondly, I learned not to take it personally. That's a big thing. I have to look at it from their point of view. They need a job. They're going to say anything so that I help them get a job. If they find a job, they no longer need my help. It's that simple.

It was a tough lesson to learn. I'm a creature that likes to suceed. I also like to control things. I've been working with software. It has a strict pattern that it follows to get the job done. If the software breaks, I generated a bug report and someone fixed it. It's an A to B type of process.

Working with people is different. It's been a while since I worked with people. People are not A to B creatures, for the most part. Even the most organized humans aren't that simple.

That's what I've had to remember this week. Humans are not software. They can get other job offers, they may answer the phone but not be able to talk because they're in the middle of making meatloaf and their hands are covered with hamburger. They may come into the office and drink a can of Mountain Dew in less than one minute and in one drag and then ask for another please. They may walk up and down stairs while reading a book and not even look to see where they're going.

Yes, these things all happened this week. The point is, humans aren't predictable. I need to remember that. I love my job but I need to start remembering that I'm dealing with real live people with real live...lives. If they don't show up for an interview, I can't file a bug report with my boss and have him fix it. It doesn't work like that.

It's going to take me a while to get used to it. I admit, I love it, even when things don't go quite the way I planned. It's different every day. Sometimes, it's different from hour to hour.

It's a different change of pace but it's exactly what I needed. Now, if I can just get stop candidates from lying to me....

Happy Friday!

Mysterious Stairwalking Readers...

I like my new office building. It's completely different from my old one. For one thing, we don't have an exercise room, fancy popcorn maker or an optimistic bathroom. I don't miss any of those things. It's still quite nice to go to the bathroom and not be assaulted by bursts of cheeriness. I'm sure, in time, the memories of having to be wildly excited to be in the bathroom will fade but, in the meantime, we have a perfectly normal bathroom. It's nice also to go in there and see immediately whether a stall is occupied. In the Most Optimistic Bathroom in the World, there was always one person who didn't understand the concept of leaving the doors open a little when you excited a stall. If you closed the doors, this made any bathroom goer have to embarrassingly knock on the stall or say, "is anyone in there," before she could do her business.

Instead, my new building is a pretty generic office building with three floors, occupied by small businesses like ours. It's quiet. Every day, I see different people as I wait for the elevators. Sometimes I take the stairs but when I go in first thing in the morning, I tend to be a little lazier.

I quite enjoying seeing people in my office building whom I don't have to work with. It makes a nice change not to know everyone in a building.

I have started to recognize a few faces of people I see fairly regularly. There's this nice lady who seems to be on the same bathroom schedule as me. Whenever I go to do my business, she's either finishing up or going in as I leave.

There is a nice travelling opthamologist I've seen on Fridays. He has a lot of equipment on one of the wheely dolly thigs. Apparently, he travels to office buildings but primarily to nursing homes so the old folks don't have to go out to get their eyes checked. He's really nice.

Pretty much everyone I've met is nice or, at least, politely friendly. Sometimes I take the elevator just because it's a good way of seeing who works in my building.

On the occasions I do take the stairs, there is one woman I see almost all the times. Without fail, she is going down the stairs and she's reading a book.

It's not the same book. She literally reads as she's racing down the stairs. I'm not joking about the racing either. She moves pretty quickly considering she's reading.

I can't decide if she's impressive or pretentious. I love to read. There are times when I'm waiting for something and I wish I had a book with me. When I used to take lunch in California, I would always have a book to read at lunch. When it was an addictive book, I'd want to do nothing more than spend every spare moment reading.

Yet I never walked and read. I think I tried it once and I realized that given that I can't walk in a straight line when I'm not reading due to either a terribly lack of ability to walk in a straight line or that I get easily distracted and this causes me to walk crooked. Reading a book while walking was somewhat dangerous.

Thus, I would never think about reading as I'm racing down the stairs.

Because I'm nosy, I looked at what the woman was reading. It's been different books. They're the type that have bright pink covers usually associated with either trashy Danielle Steel type of fiction or a brighter shade that identifies chick lit. I can't make out the titles.

I'm impressed that she hasn't fallen and that she can manage to at least look like she's reading as she goes down the stairs. However, I find it a little excessive that she can't for one moment, put the book away. I get that she probably loves to read. I get that she likes to take breaks from her job when she can to sneak a quick read. If I was enjoying a book and I got 15 minute breaks, I'd certainly go somewhere away from my office and use the time to sneak in a quick read. However, I wouldn't read while I was getting to that somewhere away from my office.

I'm willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. Maybe she has a good reason. Maybe, for example, she's on a quest to break the Guinness Book of Records for most books read in a year and she hasn't a moment to lose. Or, maybe her husband/child/mother/dog is being held at gunpoint if she doesn't finish a stack of books in a certain timeframe. Maybe, even, she's testing out the safety of the building to see how likely it was that someone who wasn't paying attention could fall down the stairs.

Still, aside from the last reason, I can't fathom why she doesn't, at least, take the elevator. It'd be safer. She could read while she was going up or down and she'd have the added bonus of the pages not bouncing around while she moved quickly. Also, if she was worried about the time she had to wait for the elevator to arrive, it would simply mean more time to read without accidentally breaking her neck.

I suppose she takes the stairs for the exercise. Of course, at that, I can't wonder why maybe she doesn't get an exercise bike or treadmill at home because you can read while doing those two forms of activity.

Still, for all I know, she's worked there 20 years and she's been doing this for ages. Maybe she has the treads of the stairs worked out and that's how she can read and move down the staircase so rapidly.

I just find her a mystery. I suppose I could ask her but she moves so quickly and has such an air of "do NOT disturb me, I'm reading!" about her that I think maybe she should have been a librarian. (Not to stereotype librarians- my good friend Ms. P is one, as is my good friend, Cindy).

I'm sure I shall continue to see her and thus continue to wonder about her obvious addiction to reading. As a writer, it's nice to see someone that dedicated and voracious. As a fellow reader, I can't help but admire her dedication.

Yet, I admit, I'm also just slightly worried that she's so addicted to reading, she's putting her safety at stake on those stairs.

It's just one of those things that makes my building interesting. Who needs optimistic bathrooms when I've got Mysterious Stairwalking Reading Lady to observe?

Happy Thursday!

Early Snow...the Joy and the Guilt....

I made a mistake last night.

I made the mistake of talking to the puppies about what would happen when it snowed.

To top it off, I wore one of my snowflake necklaces today.

This may not seem like a big deal to most people but when you're a Monkeypants in possession of a dire love of snow, it's a dangerous thing indeed.

It's only November. As much as I love snow and the comfortable cosiness of the things associated with it, even I know that it's too early. Only yesterday I was mocking the giant inflatable Santa Claus down the street from my house.

Now, it seems, even though not-so-deep-inside, I'm eager for snow, we could have snow by the weekend.

For me, this is quite a delightful idea. After all, I'm the type of Monkeypants that adores the white stuff. I don't care if it's early. I only care that it's the real thing and not some slimy sleet that only wishes it were snow.

However, while I love the wintery precipitation, I'm not deluded enough to expect everyone to agree with me.

Thus, since it's only November 3rd tomorrow, it seems that there is snow in our forecast. By Friday, we should expect raw, cold temperatures that promise precipitation. If we get the precipitation, it's likely to be wet snow.

Naturally, being the winter-loving Monkeypants I am, this sets off certain interior cartwheels/songs of joy within me.

Yet, also being the sympathetic, empathetic Monkeypants I am, I can hear the groaning and moaning of my mother's anti-winter bones curling themselves up into a fetal position as we speak.

Personally, I can't wait. I made my puppies coats a few weeks ago as I mentioned on this blog. Thus, once we start getting temperatures that are below freezing, I still expect my little pups to don their coats and go walking in a winter wonderland with me.

Yet, the realist in me protests. Perhaps it is too early. Perhaps the beginning of November is too early for snow.

The sad thing is, I just can't tell anymore. I've lost my sense of the seasons to my sense of what I love most about the seasons. I love this transition period. I loved how Autumn suddenly slapped the hand of Summer and said "no more," as it made the leaves finally tumble from the trees and the nights to grow cold. I love how Autumn has to give way to winter with the spirit of balmy days that are interlaced with frozen nights that stunt the growth and progression of anything until spring.

I know I'll love it when Winter has it's ice-cold grip on us but Spring sneaks in and says, "look, you can be as frigid as you want but during the day, I'm taking control" and, slowly, her magic works and there are crocus, daffodil and hyacinth shoots peeking through the frozen earth.

Yet there's a long way to go until then. In the meantime, it's still Autumn with only a hint that snow looms. Nevertheless, the hint is strong enough that I'm already being blamed for the potential frozen precipitation.

My problem is that I love snow. In my former days, I had a dachshund named Sausage who would help me bring upon snow by our ritual dance. In my newer days, I have a dachshund named Sookie who can also help me do the dance but she's yet to realize the consequences of her infectious joy. In addition, my mother gave me a snowflake necklace that seemed to bring on the weather whenever i wore it.

This year, I haven't yet worn that necklace but I have another snowflake which, I confess, I wore today. It's not as fancy nor as obvious but given that snow was predicted by Frank Mazullo and Fox 19 Stormtracker weather, it seems to be quite as effective.

I admit, the joyous part of me that enjoys frolicking in the snow, that enjoys the frozen tundra of winter is happy that this weekend could be the start of the ice-laced season.

Yet, the realistic part of me, the part that will always be tied, invisibly, to my mother who I love beyond words, knows that it IS too early. It's only the first week of November. Winter doesn't officially begin until December 21st. A few weeks ago I was complaining that Summer was being greedy by trying to infringe her heat and warmth on Autumn's territory. Now, it seems. Autumn is getting the shaft again because Winter is being slightly greedy and wanting to speed things along.

I have to admit, the idea of a wintry covered sidewalk adust with snow doesn't exactly make me unhappy yet the nature of my personality is that I care about others. I know my mother and other winter- despising humans are definitely not ready for snow.

Yet, no matter how I feel or try to feel, the fact is there's snow in the forecast for this weekend. I just want to go on the record and say that it was NOT my fault. Sure, I wore one of my pendant necklaces and I described it to my puppies but this doesn't mean it's my fault.

Of course, if I decide to wear the official necklace and do the offical, "Snow, Sookie!, Snow!" dance, that's another story.

I'll keep you posted. It won't happen for a while, mum...I promise.

Happy Wednesday!

Giant Inflatable Santas Already?

Well, we're in November now. Halloween is officially behind us. I can safely say this because as I blog, my neighbours down the street are attempting to blow up an rather enormous inflatable Santa Claus.

This is not new. I just looked back on last year's blogs and saw that the same neighbour had been almost as early last year with his Decking of the Halls. This year, he's two days earlier. I should be getting used to it by now. I suppose they're trying to be the first to inspire the neighbourhood to get into the holiday spirit. I live in that type of neighbourhood. I've noticed as I walk the pups that where there's one house that's decorated for Halloween, you'll find the neighbours on either side, for several houses down, also bedecked for the holiday. Then there will be a gap where there will be undecorated houses. Then there'll be another pocket of houses, all festooned with decorations.

Christmas is the same way. If one house has lights and inflatables, the houses around him will also have holiday decor. It may not be inflatable but it's giving it a pretty good challenge for glitz and sparkle.

Still, right now, Mr. Giant Inflatable Santa Claus is alone in his attempts to decorate for Christmas. I can't help but think that might last for at least another couple of weeks until people physically start craving Thanksgiving turkey and, as a penance for the calories they WILL consume, they put all their energy into decorating early. Right before Thanksgiving, it's forgiveable. I mean, what's a few more days before the start of the Offical Deck The Halls Holiday Season?

Nevertheless, as much as I adore Chrismas and the holiday season, I haven't forgotten that it was just Halloween yesterday. At times, I was besieged by trick or treaters and yet, at the end of the two hour candy-giving-out period, I still managed to have some candy left over. Granted, I had deliberately picked out every single blue raspberry flavoured Tootsie Roll pop from the Costco sized bulk package I'd bought but even without my small little crime, I still had plenty of sugary treats left.

I'm quite glad about that. If I'd have run out this year, I think I might have had to hide next year. I don't think there were quite as many kids coming through. I was slightly disappointed in the lack of costume-efforts in some of the cases. I don't mind high schoolers trick or treating, even though some people think they're a little old. However, if they can't be bothered to even attempt to dress up and come around with their plastic grocery bag and ask for candy, they're not going to get much from me. To me, Halloween is about creativity and having fun with the spirit of the holiday. If you're just in it for the free sugar, then I'm not going to reward you the way I do the other kids who do make an effort.

I did have some cute kids come through. There were a lot of parents trick or treating for their young 'uns this year. They'd wheel the tiny kids up my driveway in their strollers. The little kids were adorable but clearly not used to people just handing them candy for the sake of it. I tried to make sure I gave the really little kids soft treats like Gummi Life Savers or, at worst, Twizzlers. Jolly Ranchers were reserved for the lazy high schoolers who were really just out begging. I gave the cute toddlers Skittles and a Tootsie pop. I let the elementary kids/middle schoolers choose from my bowl if they were dressed appropriately. I think my favourite costume went to the four-year-old Frankenstein who was green from head to toe and complete with bolts and square head. He was also smiling like a fiend. Any kid that can go that far to dress up and still be enjoying himself earns himself four pieces of my sugar-filled snacks.

What I also enjoyed was the fact that since I live down the street from the police station, the patrol cars were not only out, checking on the unchaperoned kids and keeping an eye on their safety but they were also giving out their own Halloween candy. It's nice to see them being so responsible yet also getting into the spirit.

What I didn't enjoy was seeing this rather creepy person riding around on his bicycle with a Michael Meyers hockey mask and stopping in the middle of the street to just stare at the kids. As an adult, I thought this was a little creepy. I don't mean in the horror-film-I'm-going-to-axe-you-sort-of-creepy, I mean in the "I'm a creepy neighbourhood weirdo and I might just "Lovely Bones" you in my basement sort of creepy. I thought, initially, it was one of those high school boys I see from time to time in the neighbourhood who are the stereotypical geeks. They slink around with a few other high schoolers, clearly too cool to do much but not cool enough to do anything.

Well, I was wrong there. Mr. Michael Meyers Hockey Mask Face turned out to be, you guessed it, Larry the Potential Serial Killer.

Yes. Instead of giving out candy to kids like a normal nice neighbour, Larry the Potential Serial Killer was riding around on a borrowed bicycle, trying to scare the crap out of kids.

I know that the bicycle was borrowed because he came up my driveway to my front door in an attempt to scare me. Since I'm not a complete moron, I had figured out who it was ahead of time. Larry proceeded to tell me all about his adventures as the Weirdo in the Mask on the Bicycle. It turns out that someone had seen him riding around on his borrowed bike and called the police. Larry, in turn, had defended himself to the police who, apparently, know him and are his 'buddies.' He had told them that yes, he could understand people being scared of him but it was 'the nature of the costume,' that people were scared.

Me, personally...well, I wasn't scared by the Michael Meyers mask as much as I was alarmed that a forty-something-year-old man felt like that was the best thing to do on Halloween night in a neighbourhood full of little children. What's wrong with a fog machine and a scary Halloween CD playing?

After Larry had told me his sad tale of being 'warned by the police to stop his creepy behaviour' (my paraphrasing), he tried to get me to invite him in. In turn, I thrust my candy bowl at him and said, "Have a lollipop." He didn't want one. It didn't stop me from saying, "Oh, hey, look, more kids!" and ignoring him in favour of the cute moppets who were marching up my driveway for their Skittles.

This was my Halloween night. The candy held up. The puppies had a bit of a yip but actually were pretty good considering the strangeness of the evening to them. I'm sure being gated in the kitchen while fairies, Yodas, Spidermen and monsters rang the doorbell for their candy was a strange occurance in the life of the pup.

Of course, they haven't seen the giant Santa Claus in the neighbours yard yet. They haven't even begun to see strange. I'm personally a little worried about the Christmas tree and their love of biting pretty, shiny, swinging things.

Still, though my neighbours with the giant inflatable Santa might disagree, that's a few weeks off yet.

Happy Tuesday!