It’s that spoooooooooky time of year again. The weather gets colder and everything around us just dies (or hibernates – which can look pretty much the same). The shadows become murkier as the sun disappears earlier and the setting becomes perfect for an eerie holiday.

Things that are innocent can get a little twisted. That creepy cat on a broomstick? It’s just a medieval feline on a Roomba.

That being said, I am not immune to getting goosebumps when my brain decides to play tricks on me. Many moons ago, Rick and I were in our minivan when we noticed a strange thing up in the sky. It was an odd shape, it was glowing, mayyyyybeeee it was moving? We were partly apprehensive and partly excited as we wondered what in the world this unidentified flying object was?

And then the clouds parted. And it was, in fact, the moon.

Oh.

Other-worldly, yes. But not unidentifiable. MOMENTARILY, however, it was deliciously scary.

Generally I don’t like to be scared unless it comes at me in ways I can control. Like rollercoasters: a nice dose of adrenaline within the confines of a super-seatbelt.

I suppose that metered scariness is the attraction about Halloween. If the masked strangers at my door are under 5 feet tall, I will reward them with a treat. Anyone bigger than that might get the 5th degree before we open the door wide and offer up a bag of potato chips with barbeque tongs.

This year, of course, I’ll be wearing a mask myself at the door, albeit a disposable medical one. Maybe I’ll dress up in hazmat suit, too. You can never be too safe this time of year. Or this year, actually.

It is 2020, after all.

Happy Covid Halloween!