“Cisco Kid was a friend of miiiine!”
With all the paltry reboots that litter the streaming services, why haven’t they resurrected that one? I was too young, of course, to have originally seen the series, but I still hope to.
“He drink whiskey; Poncho drink the wine.”
I became interested in the ancient TV show only because of the War song, which is quite cool and catchy and often plays in Sirius while I’m headed up or down. Just think of all the excellent actors who could play these characters now!
I named my two-headed animated goat(s?), complete with fogging option, Sundance and Cisco. Mildly clever, maybe?
These are the important things my mind drifts to each time I’m on the road to or from the mountain home, escaping from — or grudgingly returning to — the wailing wind of Brighton. It keeps my mind off the more desperate, larger picture.
We hauled all 10 animatronics out onto the driveway for our first Halloween in the new home. We stocked up on a gross amount of candy because we’re in a nicer neighborhood than I ever imaged we would (or definitely ever wanted to) be, and we didn’t know what to expect.
The traffic isn’t so bad this day! How interesting is it that so many of the authors I like to read (supernatural sorts of colorful and diverse and misunderstood creatures) seem to have based the main characters on themselves? I ponder this as I drive, fresh new literary arrivals tucked into my duffle, still attempting not to obsess over the fate of the country and my children.
We even got full-sized candy bars in addition to fun size!
Odd, though, that the authors’ not-too-subtle depiction of themselves in the books tend to be more fit and attractive than when you see them in real life.
Evidently the children in our new neighborhood — and there are plenty — don’t trick-or-treat near home. They go trunk-or-treating at their schools and churches and/or to the next neighborhood over where people “get really into it,” my cross-street neighbors explained when they, and only they, visited our house. (Run-on!)
I wouldn’t be a character in my own book. I’d want to get away from myself, as far away from myself, if possible.
Fortunately, I have bunches of grandchildren, all of whom delighted in the Halloween arrangement of “puppy” (two-headed hellhound), contaminated kid (mentioned above), Mommy (mad scientist with long gray hair), mutant bunny, sewer rat (my favorite), lunging scarecrow, zombie parrot and, our latest addition, the 7-foot werewolf that I’ve named David and which lasted an entire day before acting up.
“Oh!” Despite my best efforts, a troubling memory weaseled its way into my brain as I turned northwest on Exit 232. “What was with that Uber driver?”
We had recently headed downtown to Celestia at the beautiful St. John’s Cathedral, and I can’t help but wonder whether since our driver was white (and a smoker, by the looks of her) and we are white, if that’s why she felt comfortable spewing venomous bigotry our way.
We had placed the spooky critters in the driveway and cute little inflatables on the sidewalk so as not to scare off little kids who might not want to wander through the macabre, but there were none to scare . . . so screw it.
Did she expect us to agree with her? Do her other riders share her opinions? Is racism, xenophobia and hatred toward immigrants and the needy worse than I ever perceived it could be? Maybe we riders are all too wary of speaking up and debating her since we’re trapped in the back of a three-ton box of metal, plastic and aluminum going 75 miles per hour. I just kept changing the subject.
Next Halloween my mutant petting zoo will be front and center in the smallish front yard squeezed together howling, chirping, speaking, writhing, growling and jump-scaring. If it scares anyone, fine!
It’s Monday, Nov. 2, at the mountain home and I have high hopes for the midterm elections. We proudly placed our ballots in the official box between Dave’s Liquors and Home Depot early, and followed their progression through being counted.
But I had high hopes for the 2024 elections, too, and we all see how that turned out! And the encounter with the Uber driver scares all the hope out of me.
Vote, people, please vote as if your lives and the lives of our children depend on it! I, for one, and I know I’m not the only one, believe they do. Oh, and happy Dia de Los Muertos!
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