Trick

And what do you think this Gypsy Fortune Teller predicted we'd be doing tonight?

I'll give you a hint: She was wrong.

Last night of the 13 night countdown and we were instructed to "go trick-or-treating." Alas, Halloween fell on a Sunday.

Instead, we had delightful friends over for a ghoulish feast (and, being lame, I took NO photos). We had witch's brew and monster toes and goblin goo and baked brains. Add in some highly delicious Halloween bark, and it was a capitol meal (get recipe for bark here, except I put in Reese's Pieces for candy corn and colored my chocolate orange).

Despite our lack of candy begging on the Night of nights, we did make it out to other "candy parties" (as Jane refers to it) throughout the week.

First we had our Playgroup Costume Party (the kids shaking their bum bums in a dance contest):

Then we crashed Daddy's office Friday.

Jane came to me that morning and told me she wanted to wear her pirate costume, provided she had a parrot on her shoulder. Confused as to the origin of the request, we looked all morning and located a parrot. Thrilled, we bounced off to the car, barely making it to Lane's office Halloween Party, where she categorically refused to touch the parrot.

And, finally, we ended the candy stockpiling by attending our church's Trunk-or-Treat.

I swear to you, I'm wearing a different outfit than the one from the work party. Lane informed me today that he believes I wear too much black. Is there such a thing?

After each venture, crying and illogical demands bounced off the walls of the Pilot, but I only photographed Saturday's meltdown for posterity.

I love this holiday. It was a good month. Let's plan on this again, shall we?

Now, if you'll excuse me -- I am exhausted and a slew of trick-or-treaters descended on our house, taking the bag of candy Lane purchased for my consumption alone. I'm off to hoard some of the good candy out of the kids' haul.