I got better.

I don't know what it was, but for a while there, I was pretty grumpy. Like a female dog, but starting with the President's nickname. (Bzzzz! We have a winner! Yes, internet, the correct answer is "a witch.")



See, I started a tradition three years ago. I threw a Halloween open house for people with kids, so they could bring their kids, and the kids could wear their costumes, and the grown-ups could hang around while the kids played and not have to get a sitter. I get barbecued pork from Hecky's and make some side dishes and desserts and let everyone come over and eat and drink and listen to my idiotic playlist of Halloween music (Alice Cooper's "Feed My Frankenstein" being right up there in popularity with the "Theme from Dark Shadows.")

But for some reason, I didn't want to do it this year. Maybe it was because I tend to go a bit crazy when I have a party, so what with the food, decorations, and flowers, I felt a bit overwhelmed. I just didn't want to deal with it. So I figured, what the hell, I don't have to have the party.

But then I found out that my kids invited their beloved babysitter, the woman who took care of them for nine years--NINE YEARS, PEOPLE!--and she had agreed to come.

So now I'm having the party. Next Saturday night, the 21st, from 5:00 until whenever I see fit to kick people out. And since this is insultingly late notice, and I'm afraid I won't be able to get anyone to come, guess what? I'm inviting the internet.

Yes, Internet, you're invited. If you know where I live, have talked to me on the phone, have met me, or live in the Chicago area, you're invited. YES, I REALLY AM THAT DESPERATE. Otherwise it will be my husband, my kids, and the babysitter. And I'll feel like Stella Dallas, or Miss Havisham, except in a witch hat.

(Does anyone know who Miss Havisham is, or am I being an English Major again? Dickens? Great Expectations? Old lady sitting around in her wedding dress?)