On that (mid)night before as my new editor at the HSO called it, in an accompanying piece, Halloweekend, with its parties, there were quite a few rowdy people out, but most of the costumes were reserved for Stillwater and what was called its Halloween crawl — like you needed that extra notation for again, this weekend, although still early. One man who stood out, getting on jump on the Saturday night parties, was describing to the bartender his mullet — why do I want to say mule? — made longer and excentuated by what he said was not a rug but rather hair extensions. Cool for a dude. Better then Trump’s toupe, and that’s amazing since he’s such as narcissist. Won’t go into Bernie or Biden.
Several hours later, on mid-Saturday morning, a shop owner was cleaning up the sidewalk (from the night before?), of its leaves and such, getting the prep done for her not-so-small event that would feature myriad activities such as mini-tarot readings for the little minions, spell jar making, storytime of course, and kiddie bingo (connect unicorns?) at the metaphysical shop down the way from my place.
— After some at that busyness at the Apothecary Business, they closed early on Sunday, as it was a day for pro football, not potions. Thus for the neighboring barber shop, a travel day to Titletown and a sign: Closed to go to the Packer and Vike game, Aaron.
Maybe they shoulda said Jordan, conjuring something up for him … And captain Kirk, despite enterprising a win at Lambeau, unfortunately ended up balancing on the bench like one of the craggy skeletons mentioned in this article, the victim of an apartment Achilles heal injury.
But there’s more on the Eve of All Hallows injury list, so if you dare … Something to squeeze in between the weekend costume parties and the Tuesday night haunt itself. Tonight, that being Monday, at Dick’s Bar and Grill is another version of their Halloween party, the Eat Drink and Be Scary version. Grub and party gear is the rub. Only Monday offering in this very “vein” that I know of. And there, they just might be vain. —
It had been about a week earlier that we’d seen the first of a rollout of fall events, a Scandinavian festival, that may have featured Celtic themes, such as at Halloween, at a downtown church.
This season, skeleton decor seems to be a thing, and not just the bones, as such, as formed with solely the cheesy pieces of quite puffy plastic, but in even more cases a very craggy and brittle look like you might see on a metal album cover. This could just be a matter of bone density. Some skeletons are laden with big black sprites of tinsel, though like a necklace or other piece of jewelry. Fine.
Fake spider webs around town are very big at times, but the smaller and real ones are not intentional, such as those in the brick corners of nightclub front walls, or in a great big pot (cauldron?) of browning flowers.
My very welcoming friend two doors down in the apartment always changes welcome mats by the season, starting with “wipe your paws” and now sporting all kinds of fall colors and leafy images, among them seven candy corn pieces and a dark owl. But no tricks here from this straight-forward lady.
In two places where the concrete next to the street has been placed aside, there have been sitting an also perfect seven — reminescent of the quality of underlying reconstruction? — of bright and also tinted orange, as is the theme this time of year, made of plastic cones, that soon became eight. Neither reached nine.
Like the play on the seven deadly sins on a silly sign at the bank, right in front of where you fill out your deposit slip. And next to that a plug for their “black witches club,” OK there is no such thing as again, its only a sign, and not a true visionary one.
But is the following such a sign? My website’s messages counter was stuck on this flight number for a while, 90,666. On this holiday! Hmm …
Two or is it three, other numbers make the cut. The little golden “30s” the size of less then a dime are still here, there and everywhere on the sidewalks, now on the 29th, leftover from a birthday party of the same number of years. And then the red, white and blue plastic balloons of a similar nature, about three dozen of them, over at Barker’s, one of them listing “35” in a puffy fashion befitting … an Old School plastic skeleton.