The ($1.99 Made in China) Devil Inside

Some Christians really hate Halloween. They say it is all manner of sin and shun any celebration of it. Although we don't happen to be those sort of Christians and we co-host a mighty neighborhood block party, I have to confess that I did begin the Halloween weekend with a little bit of coveting. Over some devil horns of all things. Lipstick has been a bad girl.

It all started on Friday when one of the technicians at work came in wearing the cutest-thing-in-the-world little red devil horns attached to clippy barrettes. I HAD to have some. We hit a major slooooooow point at work, and I ran across the street to Walgreen's to purchase their one remaining pair. I even got a spare glittery set.

This is Lipstick on Saturday night...The original inspiration for my costume was Disenfranchised Goth Teen. I think I ended up wearing too much lipstick. Well, imagine that. I even wore black nail polish, which y'all I really liked. The 99 cent Wet 'n Wild didn't even last the night, so I am just jonesing for some black in OPI. Now I am thinking that doesn't even qualify as "mostly preppy." I would say that qualifies for "antithesis of prep." I have no real explanation, but I loved that black nail polish. I even stood in my personal blog photo studio (i.e., in front of the shower curtain) and attempted to take a picture of my nails and my skull rings. I was feelin' all bad ass and Crazy Train.

Saturday evening we co-hosted our neighborhood block party. I began this block party by oversleeping (ever lay down with your two year-old so she will take her and nap and end up sleeping all day? uh-huh, well...that was me), and missing the entire first hour when my two dear work friends were there. By the way, JBB was trick-or-treating during this time with my dear work friends. Don't you know I am still debating whether I am The Worst Mother in the World or The Worst Work Friend in the World.

Well, on to other news. Our part of the party is the hayride. That means that Mr. Lipstick spent the week working on my tractor. I own a 1954 International Harvester Farmall Cub. I inherited it from my dear grandfather DeeDa.Here we are on the tractor circa 1976and then Mr. Lipstick and JBB circa 2008.

On Halloween, Mr. Lipstick resurrects the tractor, attaches a customized trailer, and yet another customized trailer for a truck to pull around the neighborhood. One of our neighbors provides food, a bouncy house, and all the Halloween decorations you can imagine. It is an annual good time had by all.

It's kind of funny though that what I remember most about these Halloween events is really not the actual event itself. The hayrides are a bit of a blur. I always want to be certain that I have talked to everyone that I've invited and that everyone feels welcome. Of course, there's plenty of chasing kids around too.

The week preceding the party...well, that's what I remember because that's when my tractor comes home. Mr. Lipstick brings it home from the land in the country where it is stored. It is a long and laborious process that usually occurs late at night. When they finally arrive at Lipstick Manor, I feel complete.

The tractor is a tangible reminder of DeeDa. I love the loud sound, and I inhale the exhaust as if it were the purest oxygen. I grip the steering wheel until my hands ache-pressing my skin so firmly into that aging rubber that DeeDa once held. Inevitably the tears begin to trickle down my face...slowly at first and then gushing out of my eyes...tears that have been a year in the making. As ridiculous as it is, I always end up with my arms wrapped around that tractor, hugging it to my chest as tightly as you can hug cold metal and my tears mixing with old gas and rust. I love that Mr. Lipstick has decided to make this hayride a neighborhood tradition, but mostly I am so grateful that every Halloween he brings my tractor home and with it, he brings home a bit of DeeDa to me. Happy Halloween, y'all.