I have always loved Halloween, as a child and today.

My Mom is very much a “crunchy”, tree-hugger-bakes-with-wheat-germ kind of person, and always has been. So, when I was a kid, Halloween always meant a free-for-all of otherwise forbidden national brand chocolate candies wrapped in plastic, emblazoned with their signature brand names and colors.

But, Halloween also meant traditions. We carved the pumpkins after scooping out the guts with our hands. Mom roasted the pumpkin seeds in the oven. Oh, they were yummy! Drizzled with olive oil and sprinkled with sea salt. Plus, Halloween was the gateway holiday to the rest of the yearly banner ones, Thanksgiving and Christmas. Halloween was the first of the yearly trifecta.

I remember vividly posing for the camera when I was 7, wearing a store-bought, polyester (flame retardant!) costume with the accompanying smiling plastic mask which hid the real smile on my face. I was Lucy (of Peanuts fame) and the first of my four sisters, Cristi, was Linus.

My parents added to our family at a rate of one sibling every 5 years (until the 5th one, who came just a mere 13 months after the 4th). And since I was the oldest, and due to my parent’s time and finances (or lack thereof), I became the Make Up Artist and Costume Designer.

Halloween would roll around and my questionable skills would be called into service. I made one sister into Holly Hobby, that next one into a witch. I painted blood onto faces, applied lipstick and did hair. And loved every minute of it.

We sisters would canvas the neighborhood together and heeded the Halloween etiquette - if the porch lights were on, that meant we could go and knock on the door and herald “trick or treat!!!” If the porch lights were off, that meant that the residents were not offering any goodies.

Later in my teen years , I still escorted my younger sisters through the neighborhood. I stood on the street and encouraged them to go up the walkway and beg for candy. I was never part of a gang that toilet-papered houses or threw eggs. (Mind you, I was not a model child - I did rebel later. But I always believed in and upheld the sanctity of a child’s Halloween.)

When I bought my first home when I was 22 (the one that I still live in 17 years later), I was so excited when the first Halloween rolled around a few months later. I bought the pumpkin. I carved it and lit a candle in it. I roasted pumpkin seeds. I had a huge bowl of chocolate ready for trick-or-treaters. I sat outside expectantly.

And no one came.

My neighborhood is not filled with children. It is a townhome community. The few children who do live here, their parents wisely drive them to another neighborhood to collect their booty of sweets.

After I had Tay, I did the same. I would take my daughter trick or treating in one or both of her grandparent’s neighborhoods. I also took advantage of the local Mall’s Halloween festivities. Every store in the Town Center Mall would have someone at each store-front, offering candy for the children and promotional coupons for the adults.

I did take great pride in Taylor’s costumes. She has been in costume for every Halloween since her first one 12 days after she was born. She was a Pea-In-The-Pod that first year...later she was Annie, a Kitten, Jane from Tarzan, a Fairy complete with BIG wings and elfin ears (oh, how she hated the gluing on of those ears!), a witch, Hermione from Harry Potter. I spent hours - delighting in creating and planning for her costume each and every year.

Now that she is 15, I don’t get to dress her up anymore. And Taylor tends to go to her Dad’s house, which is located in more of a traditional neighborhood, so she can see her little sister (from her Dad’s side) get dressed up and go out Trick-Or-Treating.

I still don’t get trick or treaters at my door. And I have stopped expecting to and buying the candy (which I would subsequently eat.)

But,the magic and the promise of this holiday continues to thrill me. Thanksgiving, Christmas and cooler weather are just around the corner.

I now satisfy my creativity by dressing up my Chihuahua. (ha, ha - and see the picture at the beginning of this post)

What are your Halloween memories? Do you encourage Trick-Or-Treaters or shun them? Do you unleash your inner spirit and dress up? Do tell.

And - Happy Halloween!

The People Along the Way - San Francisco

Note to my reader(s) - my ill friend mentioned in the previous post is still fighting, and showing signs of progress. Thank you for any prayers you may have offered.

-------------------------------------------------------

I have always had a soft spot in my heart for Northern California. Not the least of which was for the fact that I conceived my daughter 2 hours south of San Francisco 16 years ago.

This was the third time I had visited the area. The first time was with my ex, when we conceived my daughter; the second time was but a day’s drive through with my parents, my 4 sisters and my 9 year old living souvenir, Taylor. This third time, I came for a work / industry conference. (Note: Taylor's 15th birthday was during my sojourn to San Francisco - please submit this to the Bad Mommy of the Year Awards)

I buckled myself in for the long (thankfully direct) ride from Miami to San Francisco last Saturday morning. I was just about to (prematurely) take a celebratory photo of the empty seat next me when a middle aged, slight in build, ethnic (either Hispanic or Asian) man sat down in what was to have been my leg rest. I nodded politely and made the universal sign for “not interested in chit-chat” by taking out my iPhone earbuds and plugging them into my ears. Mind you, this is my MO during any air travel. Though I cannot sleep (and perhaps because of this fact) I tend to keep to myself and read or stare out the window for the duration. The only seat mate who can pry me out of this habit would be my daughter. (Or perhaps a celebrity. But the likelihood of encountering a celebrity in coach is pretty minimal.)

I needn’t have worried about the slightly built ethnic man as he removed a (pink and black) sleeping mask from his carry on and positioned it over his eyes just after take off.

Heartened by his demonstration of non-interest, I sat up a little and glanced towards the aisle, somewhat willing the drink cart and the Diet Coke to come my way. It was then that I noticed my seat-mate’s peculiarity. His silky gossamer (now I notice it is hot pink edged with black lace) sleep mask took on a bit of an S & M feel as he had snaked both of his arms under his own seatbelt and had clasped his hands in supplication, cupping his crotch - the total image of which would have been appropriate in a Mistress’ dungeon.

Needless to say, I chose to avert my eyes as much as possible from my seat-mate for the duration of the flight to California and switched from Diet Coke to a mini bottle of cheap but still useful Cabernet Sauvignon.

Once landed in San Francisco, I had a couple of hours to kill and took a cab after checking into my hotel in Union Square to Pier 39 and Fisherman’s Wharf. Having been to these touristy destinations on two previous trips, I felt free to just wander, people watch and have an over-priced lunch at the only restaurant that did not have a wait on Pier 39. I did have a moment of panic when my credit card was initially declined when paying for my lunch. It turned out that my hotel (in the first of what was to be several transgressions by this particular hotel) had charged my credit card for 4 times the amount of my stay, amounting to over $5,000. I am a person of modest means and usually charge very little...so my credit card company had wisely seen to it that a hold was put on my account.

The hotel staff member I spoke to was apologetic, the charge was removed and I went to bed early, my circadian rhythms still very much on an East Coast vibe.

I was up bright and early the next morning to join a colleague and some friends / contacts of hers on a tour of wine country...in a limo. Yes, ‘lil ole me, on a LIMO tour of Napa Valley. It was decadent and perfect and I have decided is the ONLY way to tour Napa Valley. I thanked my colleague for inviting me and our hosts for having me repeatedly and stopped just short of genuflecting.

This was only my second time to Napa Valley. The first time was during that first trip to North Cali with the first husband. Back then, we actually had to drive a rental car with map in hand (before the days of GPS) and one of our stops was at the Sutter Home Winery and we thought that it was the ultimate in wine. (Give me a break, I was 25 years old.) And as a matter of fact, Taylor was conceived during an evening a few nights later when we split a bottle of Sutter Home White Zinfandel. (AKA the go-to girlie drink of the early 90’s)

This time, our group was under the advisement of the limo driver, who is a Napa Valley native and who took us to several vineyards and wineries that fly under the radar for most tourists. We made 4 stops - Jessup Cellars, Silver Oak Cellars, Regusci Winery and Chimney Rock Winery.

My favorite of the stops by far was Jessup. Our group of 5 was treated to a private tasting complete with different cheeses, crackers and chocolates to help enhance the flavors of the wines. Our host, a sommelier-in-training, was wonderful and his uniqueness also enhanced the experience.

He was a tall and robust man, with friendly crinkling blue eyes and a blonde goatee that might remind one of a Scandinavian version of Grizzly Adams. This likeness proved to be prophetic as he later told us a story that had our group talking about him for the rest of the trip.

After someone in our group had brought up Oprah (the why, I believe had something to do with Real Estate), our Jessup host casually mentioned that he had met her, and that she was not the friendliest person, but perhaps it had been a bad day for her. When pressed as to how he had met Oprah, he told us the story of having been mauled by a bear as a child; specifically he was picked out by a man-eating bear in a camp full of boy scouts. The story was terrifying and defied belief, though it’s truth was carved in scars upon his head and on his hands, clearly made by the bear's teeth. He was non-plussed by his own story and seemed to take some pleasure in it - not just by shocking us tourists, but by reminding himself by the re-telling of how wonderful his life is now. He is very close to receiving his certification as a sommelier, he truly relishes what he does and he is engaged to be married. (And oh yes, to close the loop, he had been on an episode of Oprah about people who had survived animal attacks - that is how he had met her)

Meeting our Jessup host, the sommelier-in-training, was one of the highlights of my trip and solidifies what I love about travel - meeting the people.

My Conference began in earnest the next morning. I spent the next couple of days listening to amazing people both in my industry and adjacent to it. As my own company has recently dipped it’s toe into Social Media, I found a couple of sessions extremely relevant. One was with a couple of attorneys who had a give and take presentation about the FTC’s recent rulings and one was with someone who was from “behind the curtain,” an employee from Facebook.

I do believe that a lot of us listening to the Facebook employee were so taken by her insights and message that we would have held her down after the session ended to tell us more. And she was so energetic and excited about the subject matter, she would have stayed.

All in all, I did drink “the kool-aid” of the conference. This particular non-profit organization really does a phenomenal job of making newcomers (like myself) feel welcome, encourages sharing of information to promote best practices and knocks down walls of preconceived competitiveness.

The end of my stay was marked by two more diametrically opposed experiences.

I had a closing session early on Wednesday. My flight was slated for 8:45 PM, a red-eye from San Fran back to Miami.

I checked out before my early session, and asked to have my bags held until later in the afternoon. I then went to the concierge desk and asked to have the ‘Super Shuttle’ scheduled to take me to the airport by 7:00 PM.

My last session wrapped up around 1:45. I then went to the Bank of America ATM I had espied earlier, withdrew some cash for the trip home and sat in the posh hotel lobby.

I was uncomfortable. I didn’t really belong in this lobby anymore. Though I am a corporate professional, I felt like an interloper or a squatter of some sort. Thus, after seeing the Super Shuttle on the curb, sitting idle with no passenger, I decided to see if I could move my take off time up by a couple of hours and at least feel like a squatter in an International Airport, where everyone is - it kind of levels the playing field.

The woman at my hotel concierge desk couldn’t have been less helpful. Though I let her know that the shuttle was sitting outside without passengers, she said I could not possibly take that one. While at the desk, a young woman whom I vaguely recognized from the conference and inquired about the same thing. Could she hop on the Super Shuttle that was currently parked on the street? How much was a cab to the airport (three times as much.) The young woman walked away.

I dejectedly walked away from the concierge desk and was about to settle into one of the lobby chairs when the young woman came charging back through the doors and said quickly and quietly but excitedly, “You want a ride to the airport? Come on! He has room!”

So, I found myself on an earlier Super Shuttle, chugging away from San Francisco, having a wonderful conversation with that young professional woman, who like myself had chosen to have one child, a daughter, and had made the sacrifices that always accompany reproductive decisions. It was a delightful conversation, and at the airport I gave her my card and wished her well and told her I hoped she was in time to tuck her toddler into bed.

My trip to San Francisco was a conundrum...it mixed past and present...pleasure and business and passed all too quickly. I am grateful that I had the opportunity to go. I recognize, that in this economy, a trip to solely enrich a career path is a rare thing.

And again, be it the conference, the tours, the city...I was truly enriched...by the people along the way.

Don't Sweat the Small Stuff

Never underestimate the power of prayer, the force of love, the gift of family and friends...nor conversely the ironic fragility and brevity of the beautiful life we are living.

I found out today that a friend and co-worker of mine had fallen ill. He is not someone that I speak to every day and actually, more recently his career path at my office had made our crossings of paths less frequent. But every time we do speak or hang out, his infectiously snarky, witty and wry nature makes me laugh. As his house is within a stone’s throw of my own, we kept making verbal promises to get together...to have cocktails and chat...and to let our mutually spoiled, over-indulged four legged fur children have a play date. Every time I thumb through my contacts on my phone and see his name, I think ‘I have to remember to call him!’ and smile with the promise.

His illness is as severe as it was sudden. A bacterial infection has compromised his heart, started laying claim to his organs and is threatening his life.

Upon hearing the news this morning, I set out with another co-worker and headed to the hospital. I had spoken to yet another friend and co-worker (shouldn’t we coin a term for these seminally important people in our lives? However, both Froworker and Criend sound too trite) who was already there and had been there for awhile. Although she had warned me not only about my ill friend’s appearance if I should see him, but also about the size of the gathering crowd, I was still shocked when I arrived - to witness the number of people that had gathered in the waiting room.

Titles, seniority and management levels were washed away with tears and brushed aside with tissues. People - family really - huddled in groups and milled about, murmuring words of comfort, whispering updates, prompting positive stories and updates.

I was heartened to hear while I was there, while waiting to be able to see him, that the physicians had identified the particular insidious bacteria that was invading my friend’s body had been identified and that they were going to war with specific ammunition aimed straight at it.

Also, permission had been granted that my friend’s fur child, who is his heart on four legs, would be able to come into his room for awhile. I know how deep my friend’s bond is to this animal and smiled outwardly and cheered inwardly when he was carried through the waiting room into the MICU room where his Papa was laying and fighting.

Indeed, when I was finally able to see my ill friend, amidst a tangle of tubes and importantly beeping machines, his fur baby was by his side on a table...quiet and still and intent, watching over his Papa.

My time with my friend was brief - I just wanted him to know that I was there, that I was still planning our puppy play date, that I fully expected his quick and expedient recovery and that I loved him. Despite the environment and the probing feeding tube, my brave friend was able to reciprocate the sentiment.

Though my visit was heart-breaking and the situation was tenuous, I left the hospital today with an overwhelming sense of gratitude, pride and community.

I have always known that I work for a great company. Since shortly after I started, it was always my goal to continue with this company until retirement. My company has consistently demonstrated generosity and equanimity even in economic times of strife. I have even often joked that if you were to slit me open, my blood would pour out in the various colors of our multiple brands.

And today, one of the values that our company heralds as one of it’s core - people - was abundantly apparent as we circled our wagons around one of our own. Family, irrespective of it’s origins, is a lovely and mighty force.

So What IS Normal?

(My Cousin, Nicole and myself at Michelle's Wedding)

I thought that I was done, finished, finito. This past weekend heralded the completion of “my year of weddings and events.”

As you may have read previously, I was honored to be the Matron of Honor for two weddings this summer. Additionally, my daughter traveled - and my family traveled...to Maine, to New York City and to the Florida Keys.

Last Saturday was the wedding of my sister, Michelle. It took place in a lovely botanical garden in Fort Pierce, FL. It was my last wedding of the season.

My husband, my daughter and I drove the hour and a half back to our home yesterday. When I got here, I promptly threw myself into bed and stayed there...napping on and off and didn’t fully get up or shed my jammies until it was time to go to work this morning.

Then today, somewhat groggily, I began what I believed would be my ‘normal life’ once again. Driving Taylor to school, getting to work and immersing myself in e-mails, spreadsheets and presentations.

And then I realized this evening, after some thought, how far from getting back to what I would think of as ‘normal life’ I am.

• I am a single Mom for the balance of the week (Donnie had to travel yet once again for work and left early this morning) - not ‘normal life.’

• We still haven’t resolved the house status; leave it on the market at a much lower price or take it off the market? - not ‘normal life.’

• We also haven’t decided on whether or not we will retire my beloved Chrysler Convertible, Casey and get a new car (this decision being intrinsically tied to the one above) - not ‘normal life.’

• I am leaving for San Francisco for a conference in little over a week (and over my daughter’s 15th birthday, no less - yes, please add this one to my BMOTY award submissions) - not ‘normal life.’

• Though it is a bit farther off, I have once again volunteered to host Thanksgiving in my woefully small abode and must begin plans, calling people, organizing...again - not ‘normal life.’

So I just have to sigh with the realization that while the next few weeks and months on the calendar do not mark any marquee type events, my new but not ‘normal life’ will likely be only slightly less frenetic than the one that I have lived over the past 9 months.

I long to take a moment and smell life’s roses -

Does anyone else feel as though life is just rushing at them?