Boo!

Dear Diary,

Who else is looking forward to awkward exchanges with their child-making neighbors this holiday weekend?

Now, I recognize that for many youngsters, Halloween is their raison d'être — that and keeping their parents satiated with a belly full of regret. I had this phase. Euphoric candy binges shall not be denied.

What is often overlooked, I think, is the essential and thrilling act of approaching strange houses. That ability to roam free (while dressed as a gaucho, patrolling the pampas of your subdivision) is rather titillating, I propose:

 (Pound, bang, knock... Halloween pleasantries are exchanged, and all of the sudden you're looking past the house wench and checking out their IKEA stuff... exhilarating).

While walking around the hood, I can't not look into windows — from a respectable distance. (I have a rule, if I'm closer to their house than the sidewalk... over the line! And I don't allow myself to wear all black... too tempting) This passion, quite possibly, would not be all mine to enjoy, if not for Halloween.

Now, with my thartieff burffday looming, the fun is a little different... not quite as delectable. Like you, I'm not even on a pleasant nod regimen with many of my neighbors — no contact, no recognition. Yet, I recognize them. I see them. And they bring their kids to my door:

"Hello person I habitually avoid talking to, your child's trite costume is unimaginative and adorable. Kids, be careful not to upset your bowel movements — eating a pound and a half of processed sugar is an art form... take it seriously. Parent neighbor, we'll do this again next year? Great."

Big social weekend for the Tee Vee: Dr. Dog, Symphony, dress-up drinking... expect a partial report.