Image of two ghosts. 

I am not a fan of horror movies, haunted houses, or gruesome creatures that lurk 
in my closet and under the bed. 

Give me " scary safe."

A caldron of apple cider suits me. Put out purple mums and orange pumpkins to decorate the porch. Let me dress up and become someone else for a night. 

What was your Best Ever Halloween costume?

A prize-winning outfit you envisioned and created? An unexpected find in the thrift store? The celebrity costume that turned you into a glamour star. Or the perfect disguise, the one that fooled even your best friend’s mother?

At first, Halloween centered on collecting treats until I found fun in the tricks. No, not stringing toilet paper in the trees, or smashing poor pumpkins. The delightful trick of impersonating characters—the heroes, Hollywood actors, and everyday heroes (firefighter, nurse, teacher). Of course, there are ghoulish creatures like witches, devils, and vampires. I’ll throw in politicians here too and you put them in the category.  As a teenager, I plastered my face with a dark green eye shadow like the Wicked Witch of the East. A small sacrifice intended to scare up attention. 

I’ve wondered how costumes have changed through the decades or not. Do we dress up like our idols? Astronauts. Do we turn ourselves into what we fear? Aliens. Ax-welding madmen wearing hockey masks? Will cartoon characters always be in vogue? What costume garners more candy, huh? Cute or scary?

My favorite costumes throughout the years:

A spunky monkey child’s costume my mother made for me. My mask and the long tail earned me third place prize.

The court jester outfit I made with bells on the collar that jingled and jangled.

Finally, the circus performer attire that caught my eye in the thrift store. This cherry red leotard with silver sequins transformed me into a trapeze artist. The magical experience continued when my future husband also got into the act donning teal tank top and black bicycle tights. What dazzling trapeze partners we made, if only for one night.

But Halloween has gone beyond one night because starting in September, we are haunted with Halloween décor. We can’t escape the spooky soundtracks and purple lights casting surreal shadows about.

Strolling through the neighborhoods, I have seen skeletons dancing, stuffed scarecrows lounging about, tombstone populating lawns, and wisps of ghosts dangling from every tree limb. A few pumpkins and purple, orange, and maroon mums added festive touches. (A few mums brighten up every place.)

Recently, I read about homeowners, who spent thousands of dollars on outdoor decorations for an elaborate spectacular Halloween scene. What an economically chilling amount of money! Yet, it’s hard not to admire the innovation and investment to delight our spirits. 

Image of a heart in an open book.

What is hate reading about? 

Hate reading: Reading with the intent to criticize, mock, or feel  smarter than the writer. 

 My theory, and I’ll call it resentful reading, results from the  reader feeling betrayed, misled, or annoyed by how the author presents the content. Not enough action, unrealistic characters, or gratuitous violence. 

Too much of this, too little of that.                

Maybe the reader is having an awful day and a close reading to     find fault makes them feel better?

 I imagine the worst case is when the writer offends or insults the reader. For example, a glaring spelling error, albeit a street name, city, or beloved person.  A hate reading experience differs from analyzing an academic paper, where finding flaws and inconsistencies is expected. And valuable. 

Still, the question remains: Why choose to read something whose entertainment is derived not from pleasure but from hate? Reading with this attitude can’t be healthy, can it?

Hate-readers express their views with the same enthusiasm I do when I love the book.        

“I couldn’t help myself, now I was hate-reading it with vengeance,” a writer friend said, sounding gleefully satisfied.

“I kept hate-reading this book and was hoping I wasn’t the only one,” said a book club member. Why? Well, he wants everyone to “hate on it.”

 In my view, that particular book does not deserve the hate-reading treatment. Just because the author blends many genres, creating a book as unsatisfying a potluck lunch where the dishes all miserably mix together, leaving the diner with a tummy ache. Stick to one or two serving.   

My reading recipe is simple: Subtract one’s age from 100 for how many pages to read before committing to finishing the book. I will change my standard recipe if:

•  A trusted friend presses this book into my hands.

•  The book is by a family member, dear friend, or colleague.

•  It’s a book club pick.

• Open or closed, the book gives off scary spine-tingling vibes. I am a sensitive reader, friends.

 In the end, I want my relationship with books and people to enrich me.

I will spend time, money, and energy to find, finish and enjoy reading. Love, not hate keeps me reading. 

           

Footnote: Hate reading is not yet in the Merriam Webster’s dictionary.

 

 

Why are car wash fundraisers popular?

Enthusiastic elementary kids jump up and down with handwritten signs, waving their arms and shouting at passing cars: Car Wash! High school students sway silently with their signs with arrows, beckoning drivers to pull in for a car wash. I appreciate the work invested in a car wash with a cause. These are a few of my favorite things about this kind of old-fashioned fundraiser. 

    Car washes appeal to all ages because there’s a role for everyone from making the signs, waving at drivers, rinsing, soaping, and toweling off the dirt. And of course, taking and counting the money. Could we consider this a team sport without a few star players getting all the glory?

    The outside activity is a feel-good deal—a donation in exchange for a wash. An extra tip pressed into the hands of the hard worker earns a smile. (Unlike bake sales, the buyer isn’t worried about breaking their diet, or hurting anyone’s feelings by choosing Tiffany’s cookies over Tom’s brownies.)

    Gas, diesel, or electric vehicles, all get dirty. Drive up in a beater, a handed down jalopy, or the latest model everyone envies—every ride deserves to shine. (I’ve seen bicyclists offer their two-wheels for a wash too.) Everyone’s welcome.

    It’s a promise made to show up for someone you care about to support their cause. Or it’s a spontaneous act of generosity. Whatever the case, charity car washes are here to stay.