Even though I was at work for only 4 hours on Friday, I participated in the Halloween festivities by dressing up. What am I? I'm bad. As evidenced by the neck tat, the cigarette behind my ear, and the flask in my hand. Bad.
We got only nine trick-or-treaters Friday night...mostly the little neighbor kids. Which is understandable. There aren't any houses across the street from us, so our street is pretty dark. Tiny 2-year old Reece, dressed as a little lady bug, decided to go ahead and eat the packet of Sweetarts I gave her -- paper and all!
After trick-or-treaters, we went to the Wilson Halloween Party...me in my 70s get-up (you can't see my "Freebird" T-shirt, or my Cherokee wedgies, but trust me, they are fabulous) and my husband as "Bill the Broker" who has apparently ended it all. A cut-down noose around his neck and blood from where he was "cut down" rounded out this commentary on the economic sitch. I'm holding Hope's Pomeranian puppy, who we noticed was more like a Tribble than a dog.
We finished up the evening with Miss G and further wig fun. G loves herself a good wig. Happy Hallowiener!
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