Halloween Back in the Day

Friday was bright and sunny, 72 degrees. It had the look of fall. Not from our trees, which don't show much color this year due to little rain. But the sky, and the angle of the sun were very fall-like. Plus I smelled smoke from burning leaves. I don't know how. I was on blacktop parking lots at 10Box and the Gas Station Chicken Store. Not exactly a residential neighborhood. The country people around us know not to be burning now, unless they want to risk an out-of-control wildfire.

Anyhoo... that smell took me back to Halloween when I was a kid in the 1960s. We always smelled burning leaves when trick-or-treating. None of that daytime stuff for us! We had to wait until dark. That's back when daylight savings time came before the first weekend in November. So the wait wasn't long. We always had supper at 5:10. That's the time my dad got home from work. By the time supper was done, it was plenty dark for trick-or-treating.

Our costumes came from Woolworths. The kind in a see-through box, with a plastic mask on a thin elastic strap. I can't remember what I was. Most often a witch, I guess, because that's all that comes to mind. No pretty princess for me. That was my sister, 18 months younger than me. We had a big fight one year when I told her she had boy toes. Sometimes I was just a ghost under a sheet. Which coordinated well with the pillowcase I toted to collect candy.

OH, the CANDY! That's the main purpose, you know. Getting candy. Not dressing up, or walking around at night getting spooked. Eventually we got the plastic pumpkins to hold our bounty. It seemed like a lot more in a pillowcase. 

My dad always took us. He'd follow about 10 feet behind, staying in the shadows, on the main sidewalk, letting us go up on the porches. There were throngs of kids. Mom stayed home to hand out candy. We traveled our street, and the next street over. Four blocks of each. Not every house had the porch light on, but most did. You knew the old spinster ladies would be giving out popcorn balls. Or apples. Or even worse, PENNIES!

When we got home, all the candy got dumped out. We were careful to keep our piles separate. Then the bargaining began. Sometimes I could persuade my sister to trade. Sometimes not. Mom and Dad got the things we didn't like. Which wasn't much!

Chocolate was the best. Especially if you got a FULL SIZE HERSHEY BAR. Mostly they were the "fun size," which were bigger back then than they are now. I liked the Baby Ruths best. Then 3 Musketeers. Milky Way was just okay. And Butterfingers I would trade. I'd also trade the Reese's Peanut Butter Cups.

Sugar Daddy suckers were on the trade list, but I'd keep Sugar Babies. I couldn't get rid of those black and orange wrapped chewy candies fast enough. I hated them. They were like caramel with a dab of peanut butter inside. Nor did I like the big square banana chewy candy, or Now and Laters. I hated Necco Wafers. And the Boston Baked Beans. Plain caramels.

Candy corn was fine with me. And Safe T Pops and Dum Dums and Tootsie Pops. Tootsie Rolls were good, especially the fruit flavors. Lemon Heads were good. The mini jawbreakers that came in a box, or the big individually wrapped jawbreakers were keepers. Root Beer Barrels. Smarties. Wax Lips. The little boxes of chalky "cigarette" candy.  And Twizzlers. Any kind of gum. Chick O Sticks. Milk Duds. Little bags of jellybeans. The Bit-O-Honey was something I'd try to trade for. Usually successfully.

In the years before the plastic pumpkin containers, our pillowcase candy was put into a shoebox and set on the counter above the kitchen sink, for browsing through as we wanted. Mom and Dad didn't steal our candy. I imagine they just ate what was left over from our handing-out candy. And poocorn balls and apples! We didn't have any rules about when we could eat it. Our stash just dwindled a little each day, until we finished off the least-favorites.

It was a different time. Kids could wander the streets, knock on doors, and eat candy from strangers. All it takes is the smell of leaf smoke to transport me back.

Not the Harem

Hick was getting his plate for supper on Thursday, and started chuckling.

"There's this guy at the Senior Center. He calls himself a preacher. He come down for his lunch. I watched him going back upstairs. He stopped by the salad bar and took a stack of plates a couple inches high."

"I guess maybe he didn't want his plate to collapse."

"The salad bar wasn't even open! It's only open a couple days a week."

"So they leave the plates sitting there?"

"Yeah. They're styrofoam plates. He probably had ten of them at least."

"You mean after he ate, he walked by and took empty plates?"

"He don't eat down there. He usually comes down and gets his in a to-go container, and takes it upstairs."

"I guess maybe he wants to have a normal meal on a plate."

"He took enough of them!"

"Is he one of your Harem?"

"Nah, he don't talk to nobody much."

I don't really see a problem with this. The guy might want to sit at the table and eat off a plate, not out of a container. It's not like he's selling them out of the alley in a trenchcoat, or using them to build a beer cooler. That I know of...

No Longer Even Trying to Hide His Intentions

I got a text from Hick on Thursday morning at 8:58.

"I got the heating and cooling price this morning $9,000.00 for Cheap House"

"That's a lot."

"No i thought it was reasonable."

"I mean for a house that was supposed to be a clean-out and sell."

No further response. In case there was ever any doubt... Hick has clandestinely planned all along to keep Cheap House and fix it up completely before listing it! I can't imagine why else anybody would call a heating and cooling company and let them in the house to give an estimate. It's not something you do for kicks.

I suppose Hick was trying to be on his best texting behavior. He didn't have any spelling errors. And when I might have just put the amount as $9000, Hick made sure to send it as $9,000.00, as if that might make it seem less. With the .00, you know!

I should have known when Hick ordered $423.39 worth of insulation this month. And when I asked for clarification in itemizing expenses for Lap House and Cheap House, Hick said it was all for Cheap House. It's not something I would have expected for a house being sold to a flipper.

I haven't talked to The Pony about it yet. One thing I'm sure we'll agree on is: THEN GET TO WORK AND GET ONE OF THOSE FLIP HOUSES FINISHED AND LISTED!!! Because now we're looking at winter, and a new set of bills if Hick plans to heat Cheap House. This piecemeal working at one place then the other is not at all efficient. Especially at three hours a day, four days a week.

Three People, 60 Votes

Hick nabbed the last handicap space at the Voting Center. He usually drops me off at the door, then has to park in the lot behind the building. "Looks like they're not too crowded today," he said. JINX!

I took my cane, telling The Pony that I felt fine walking, but didn't know about standing if we had to wait. We started across the driveway towards the door. "I'm trying to hurry, Pony. To beat those people." It was a grandma, mom, dad, and girl toddler coming from the parking lot. We did beat them, by about four steps.

Of course Hick knew one of the ladies coming out. She spoke to him, and said, "Lucky I came early. NOW there's a line."

Indeed. A line backed up through the second sliding glass automatic door. We fell in line, as did the people with the screaming toddler behind us. The line moved a bit, getting me inside the door. The Pony, a credit to Gen Z, sidled up from behind Hick to stand at my right shoulder. Then stepped in front of me as the line moved again. Oh well. I was 10th 11th in line. Insignificant to you city voters, but quite a line for us.

We could see inside the voting room. There were 8 white plastic tables, with 3 chairs at each one. Blue ink pens were on the table to fill out the ballots. Only three per table. No electronic voting machines. All paper here. Along the right wall of the voting room were long tables with election workers. They were in pairs. As somebody would pick up their ballot, the workers would look out the door, hold up a hand, and say, "We can help who's next."

I knew to have my ID ready when my turn was called. Unfortunately, I had reached into my shirt pocket and pulled out my debit card instead. "Oops! You don't want my debit card!" It took one second to drop it back in my pocket and grab my driver's license. The worker who took it was sour-faced. Like I had planned it and was trying out a stand-up routine.

Worker 1 scanned my driver's license. Her little screen brought up my name and address. She turned it and asked me to sign if it was correct. I used a little rubber-tipped half-pen that was in a pile of five or six on the table. A pink one. Worker 1 turned and printed out a ballot from a machine behind her. She and Worker 2 used red pens to put their initials in two boxes at the top of my ballot. They printed out a receipt from the thingy where they had scanned my driver's license, and laid that receipt face-down on a stack of them. "Take this to a table to vote. Pens are on the table. Then feed it to the machine at the back when you're done."

The Pony was at a thin brown table along the back wall, near the ballot scanner. I didn't like the looks of the chairs there. Folding plastic, and low. I chose a white table at the back, which had the molded blue plastic and metal chairs that we had in purple in our school cafeteria. Hick followed a few minutes later, and sat across from me. He said something about one of the names on the ballot.

"I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to talk!"

"Oh, well."

The ballot was front and back, but didn't take long to fill out. I had looked at a sample ballot online the day before, and knew my choices. Our local ballot had:

State Auditor

U.S. Rep

State rep

Circuit Judge

Presiding Commissioner

County Clerk

Circuit Clerk

Recorder of Deeds

Prosecuting Attorney

County Collector

County Auditor

Should judge be retained in office? 4 of them to vote on 

4 Amendments to the Missouri Constitution

1 Proposition

There were 20 things to vote for. Eight of the races had only one candidate. Not hard to choose, since I didn't plan to write in any other choices. I always vote to retain the judges, unless there's been some controversy. I figure it's more efficient than somebody new taking over. Hick always votes to NOT retain judges, becausehe doesn't want them to become corrupt. I guess The Pony broke our tie, though I don't know which way. As for the amendments and proposition, I had researched my issues, and gave two NO and three YES.

I was done first. It only took me two tries to get up out of that chair. I was right behind The Pony to feed my ballot into the scanner. A worker man told me to wait until the light turned from red to green. Then in it went, sucked like (oversized) money into a scratcher machine. Hick followed a few minutes later, as The Pony and I waited in the hall outside the back door of the voting room. It was all very efficient.

The whole process was easy peasy. Except maybe for the 40-mile round trip. A little longer, because of a sidetrack to pick up The Pony. Who took an "I Voted" sticker. Hick and I did not. It feels different when you vote early, and not in a horde on election day.

Centralized Casting

Thevictorians are off to cast our votes en masse this afternoon. We have no-excuse, in-person early voting in Missouri for two weeks before the election. You don't have to give a reason. Just show up at the designated voting place, present your picture ID, and fill out your ballot. That's assuming you have indeed been registered to vote by Oct 7th this year. Mailed absentee ballots require a qualifying reason, must be notarized, and received by the election officials by 5:00 p.m. Nov 2nd.

I like this opportunity. In the past, our voting precinct was the basement of an old church about two miles farther in the middle of nowhere from our hillbilly mansion. In my younger years, it was not a problem. The biggest issue was getting there on time after (or usually before) work on election day, and the limited parking. Then my knees grew more contrary, and descending the carpeted steps was a problem. The Pony used to vote at the firehouse in Sis-Town. It's four blocks from Pony House. Now that also is not an option. 

The county re-designed (or whatever you might call it) the voting process. Voting is more centralized, not spread out in assorted "townships," at places like churches, libraries, rec halls, etc. Now there are only four locations in our county where you may vote. I imagine they will be quite crowded on actual election day. One is the local junior college, and two are the largest high schools in our county. The Voting Center is the only place that offers the early voting, from 8:00 to 4:00, Monday-Friday, from Oct 20th to Nov 1st. Regular voting hours apply on Nov 2nd, 6:00 a.m. to 7:00 p.m.

Now we just pick a time to drive the 20 miles down to Bill-Paying Town, and vote early in the converted old morgue. Which is now called simply: Voting Center. There are no steps. Just a little ramp to the sidewalk, and automatic sliding glass doors. Heh, heh! I require the modifications once needed to transport a corpse.

Anyhoo... I'll let you know how it goes.

There's a Second FREEBIE Magnet in Thevictorian Household

Hick is not the only family member with a FREEBIE magnet. Val can score an item or two herself. That's not even counting the countless pens she helps herself to at flip house closings, or off the counter of her credit union.

Of course, Hick has way more opportunities to get FREE stuff. He has a freakin' HAREM, by cracky! But Val has her lottery. And she's a regular at the Gas Station Chicken Store. Last month, I stepped up to the counter as usual to cash in some winners, and buy more scratchers. The girl working was not my favorite, Fave. But the other girl, Other Girl.

Other Girl rang up my tickets. Then she reached over to her right, just past the glass case that holds the lottery tickets. The area of the counter with display boxes of seasonal treats. She picked up a blue object.

"Would you like a koozie?"

At first I was shocked. Other Girl isn't always so bright and friendly to me. She's no Fave. She's always courteous, but doesn't go out of her way to pretend we're buddies.

"Sure!"

"Be careful, there's a magnet on the back. Just so you know."

It was a promotional item for the MO Millions draw game. I don't play it. I don't need a koozie, either. But I'm not passing up something for FREE! It was the last one left. I imagine she'd had a stack there for a couple days that I hadn't noticed.

Indeed, there's a magnet on the back. I guess I can stick it on FRIG II. I tried to put a can of beer in it for Hick, but I couldn't do it. Maybe the koozie just needs to be stretched a bit. I think it will work better for bottles, which Hick usually drinks from.

I bet nobody can figure out who that singer is in the background on my Spotify screen. I'm a bettin' woman, you know. But I don't plan to pay up if somebody is psychic and figures it out.

Handicap Parkers of a Different Sort

Now I must form a special task force within my Handicap Parking Police. A new species of rumpusholes has emerged. Must be some type of weird mutation. I assume that at one time they were regular handicap parker rumpusholes, but somehow lost the use of their vehicles.

The Pony and I were making a quick stop at Save A Lot on Errand Day. There were a couple items I was looking for, like sardines in mustard sauce, and animal cookies for Hick's weekend lunches. I also wanted some scratchers from their machine. 

BOTH HANDICAP SPACES WERE TAKEN!

I had to park T-Hoe in the second row out in front of the store. The Pony volunteered to run in for me, so I said just to get my scratchers. No need to make The Pony actually shop. As I was waiting, that black car pulled in and parked. It was not in a space. Just parked there, at the end of a row. Shame on them. But we're not here for a random shaming today. We are concerned with what's on the other side of that black car. Over in the two handicap spaces.

Those two people have parked their rumpuses on the concrete bumper of my rightful handicap space! And they KNEW what they were doing! Way down past that other black car is the entrance where I came in, because the main entrance was blocked by a truck pulling out. The guy of this duo was actuall sitting on the OTHER handicap parking space bumper. Both people looked at me as I drove by, with my bright blue handicap placard swinging.

After we parked, The Pony went in and I watched that dude get up and move over by his woman. Oh, I COULD have steered T-Hoe into one of those handicap spaces, rather than driving by. Hopefully stopping before T-Hoe's grill bashed them in the face. They could have scurried away. But that would have been a rumpushole move by ME. And I try to reign in such drastic behavior, no matter how satisfying it would be.

They weren't homeless people with all their belongings on their back, or in a borrowed cart. Just two shoppers who'd been to the Dollar Store that's also in this mini mall, who had stopped to have a smoke and check their phone. Probably on the way back to an apartment building down the street. If the guy had bothered to move when he first saw me, I could have parked in the space he vacated.

The Universe is getting quite creative in ways to thwart my parking.