Face paint, cheap shit, and big bags of candy

Not sure what possessed me to leave my preserve oasis, drive down my mile long entrance road to the nearest pavement, travel 45 min through three small towns, and step foot in a Wal-mart Super Center... face paint, cheap shit, and big bags of candy, that's what did it to me. Halloween's on its way, time to suit up the babe and eat lots of refined sugar, food dye, and complicated chemicals, and sadly, out here, there is nowhere else to get it (shoulda coulda woulda done without, but I didn't).

I must say for me, the joy of making the costumes is a heavy handed motivator. Paper bags, duct tape, staples, spray paint, you name it... every year has been monumental in design and originality (if I do say so myself). And this year my daughter's going as a.... as a.... ghost.

Yep, that's right. Sign of the times... Hey, it was actually her idea first, though I did persuade her (on more than one occasion) of its fantastic qualities. So we're going to spruce up the white sheet look with a little face paint, let the whole kisser show through and have tons of fun. She's going to a home school party, run around in the dark with all her friends, hyper on the good stuff, looked after by my husband.

I'm not counting on my attendance, especially after today's 'super store' experience. Maddening I tell you, that place, all those people, pudgy, pasty, florescent lighting, extreme amounts of plastic junk, waste, heading straight for the nearest dump because it's just so cheap you can always buy some more! Not saying the home school group is anything like that, it's definitely not, but the party is on a post-injection Saturday and this super store extravaganza dipped down deep into shallow reserves. It's just not a good mix for me, not ever, but especially not right now, when I can't push the cart fast enough, can't think clear enough to remember what I came for (hey look at that, I could really use one of those), when the one damn bathroom is always at the other end of the freakin store and you know my daughter's got to poo, and when I just don't have any extra, any extra to spare on such wasted angst. Even now, this drains me just to think about it. My head hurts and I forgot to buy toothpaste.

Yuck. Cancel all these thoughts. Return to my haven, safe among the pines, wire grass and fall flowers, away from the bustle of over population. What time is it, 'Now'. Where am I, 'Here'. I'm so glad to be home.