In which I rant and rave like a religious fanatic

I really have been pretty good on this blog. I have not tackled controversial stuff, I haven't gone on and on about the phone company, I just barely mentioned that Victoria Secret sales lady. Jess can tell you I tend to get, um. . . a bit worked up about things at times, while he calmly reminds me that I should expect to feel like an "alien and stranger" in this world cause that's what I am, and that the things of God are indeed foolishness to those who don't believe, cause God said they'd be. I have a wise husband. A wise and usually-annoyingly-calm-about-things husband. But I just have to tell you that Halloween is my least favorite holiday. I LOVE autumn. I love spices and cider and anything to do with pumpkin. Sure I love to see my kids all dressed up, but really, they don't need a holiday to play dress up. Have you seen us at the commissary lately? I sometimes travel with a spiderman body guard or a princess entourage. But here's the deal. The reason I don't like Halloween is because somehow things that are completely inappropriate, like a life-size man hanging from a tree with a noose around his neck, become completely appropriate, all in the name of "good clean spooky fun." I just hate that we don't have to go looking for terror like this, it's on tv commercials during the morning news, or ringing our doorbell on Oct. 31st, or, in our case this year, a life sized hanibal lector in our neighbor's front yard.


I'm not a big fan of the Christian Broadcasting Network, honestly, but they had two good articles about Halloween. One asking Christians to avoid "circling the wagons" and having our "harvest festivals" instead of going into our neighborhood and being salt and light. I liked it better than the one suggesting we have our own celebrations. But, I can't bring myself to take my sweetly dressed 6, 4, and 2 year olds around the block, knowing what they'll see. And do I answer the door to trick-or-treaters? I have been known to peek out the window at each ring of the doorbell before I told my children whether they can answer, or go hide in their room while i answered. Why? Well, the 5 year old in the scream mask and the 7 year old with the bloody ax in his scull did a number on their dreams that night. Again, I have to scream "WHY IS IT GOOD CLEAN FUN TO DRESS LIKE A MURDER VICTIM AND A MURDERER?!" Ok, Jess, I know you're giving me the "simmer-down" look. I just had to let out a little steam. And I will leave it there and not try broach the subject of sexy french maid costumes on 6 year olds.