How My Husband Saved Halloween

OR:

Setbacks, Sesame Street, and Small Sweetnesses

I suppose I should begin by saying that Halloween isn’t really a thing for me. I don’t typically ‘celebrate’ it in any kind of costume-y way, I don’t decorate my house with ghoulishly designed pieces of plastic, and the ‘scary’ bits of paranormalist hooliganism just don’t appeal.

HOWEVER

I am a fan of fun.

If ‘playful’ is a kink, it’s definitely MY kink. I love doing things – especially with people I love – that celebrate the ‘happy’ in life. Other adult-type humans may find those types of things childish (I mean, I bought a pair of owl rainboots so I could stomp about in puddles should the mood and the weather strike me to do so) or silly (I have an elf hat with pointy ears on the sides… and a pink Santa hat with a princess crown on the front of it, because ‘TIS THE SEASON TO BE RIDICULOUS!) or just plain don’t.get.it.

But my husband?

He gets it.

And he joins me in my fun.

Which is why this year – for the second year running, woohoo! (because my work schedule did not interfere and I knew I’d be home to pass out candy) – we went to a pumpkin patch and picked out pumpkins to carve.

Mine, fashioned in psycho-crazy-cat likeness (the design made me think of Nanny Ogg’s cat Greebo… those of you who are fans of Terry Pratchett’s witches will recognize why, I think) turned out thus:

^Fun, yes? Cute, even!^

EXCEPT

Well, except Greebo only lived in smiling havoc on that pumpkin face for approximately 2.8742 minutes beyond the taking of that picture.

Because I thought — quite cleverly, I believed at the time — that I would try to postition him on the porch railing so he would be better visible to the kiddos coming to trick-or-treat.

So Greebo balanced on the railing _just_ long enough for me to take three steps backward…

.

.

.

…and then he pitched forward and broke his kitty-nutcase face.

[cue: astonished WTF?! from Feve]

Followed by…

Smotch:  What happened?
Me:  I broke my puss.
Smotch:  . . . ?
Me:  Well, that’s what I get for trying to put it on display.

So I was a little sad.

Not surprised, really. These things happen. (And they quite often happen to me. Un-awkward and perfectly graceful I am not.)

But still.

Sad.

Because I had plans, you see. Plans for sugaring up the trick-or-treaters while wearing my Count Von Count vampire-ish Sesame Street shirt and having two fabulously glowy perfectly-carved pumpkins adorning my entryway.

And of course I could still be Sesame Street-y and of course I could still pass out candy, but…

But But BUT

Sans Greebo.

: tear :

: sniff :

But of course I’m a big girl, and I know better than to get Terribly Upset about Unimportant Things, so I just sighed and smiled and said to my spouse, “Well, at least we still have your pumpkin,” and just moved on with things.

That was the weekend before Halloween.

Two days later, my husband had purchased a new pumpkin and scraped all the gunk out of it for me (I hate that part — blech!) and when I got home at the end of a long day, said, “You can carve a new kitty hon.”

Aaaaawwwwuh!

Except I couldn’t carve a new kitty. (Oh no!!!) Because my work schedule was NUTS (it still is, which is why I’m not writing much in this space right now — time is a finite resource!) and I couldn’t figure out how on earth I’d fit it in when I’d only be home to sleep and…

and and AND

So you know what?

He carved it for me.

It was a bit of a rush job, done at the last minute (on Halloween day, about 30 minutes before trick-or-treating started) because his schedule is crazy too. But still.

He carved me a second pumpkin because I smooshed my first one.

Because he is sweet and lovely and *gets it* that I find joy in simple pleasures.

Witness:

^And doesn’t his pumpkin look fabulous?^

Ironically, we had less trick-or-treaters this year than last year. So there were a few less chil’rens to appreciate the punkin-ness. And we had waaaay too much candy. (No doubt we’ll be eating ‘fun size’ sugary sweets until next Halloween.)

But I still got to do my Halloween’ing.

With a carved pumpkin.
Wearing a Count Von Count vampire-y shirt.
As planned.

Because my hubby saved my Halloween. 🙂

And see…

This is why, as a couple, we WORK.

It’s not about the sex, or the daily divisions of responsibility (and their various horrific underpinnings), or even celebrating the milestones or weathering the hard times.

Those thing happen, yes. And we do them well.

But the reason the rest of our relationship holds up is because one of the cornerstones it’s built on is that we delight in bringing one another joy.

He ‘gets’ me.

And I love him madly for it.