31 October 1998: Hallowe'en

Expecting Barbie to have another Hallowe'en bash this year, I pondered what to be. Chatting with a sympathetic coworker one day, I was inspired. She was going to be a roll of Tums, which would be appropriate since before the Dot Org Hallowe'en party would be a Green Chili Cook-off. (My coworker had asked me to be a judge, saying my judicial name could be Mona LJH, but sadly, since I know so little and like so much less of green chili, my opinion would have no legal weight. Otherwise I would have leapt at the chance to be Mona Lisa again.) My inspiration: I would be a roll of Wild Cherry Lifesavers, a reprise of my misspent youth when I was a stick of Wrigley's Doublemint Gum (and CLH was a McDonald's trash can).

I began to plot. I would need red satin sewed into a tube for the wrapper, silver lamé at top and bottom for the foil, white and red felt to cut the letters from, and blue and white fabrics as fields for the names. Also wide red ribbon for suspenders. One evening I scampered to Hobby Lobby and made my purchases. The only available red felt had little white hearts, but of course I could use the wrong side. I even bought a glue gun, figuring it would be better than Elmer's to tack down the letters.

I dug out my sewing box. In that Island of Misfit Toys, I found a package of red pipecleaners (the package read "chenille stems"?) and realized that they would be much easier to form letters from than red felt. I measured the blue fabric from sternum to mid-thigh and hemmed it. I cut the letters LIFESAVERS from white felt to fit the blue and glued them down. I gave up on the glue gun, its glue not being very gluey and the trigger not built to force the whole stick forward, so back to the faithful Elmer's. Then I made another blue and white label for my back: I wasn't about to do the Nutrition Facts label. I bent the pipecleaners into WILD CHERRY. This last was during "ER." Then I went to bed.

So far, so brilliant. Over the next day, I tacked the pipecleaners to leftover white felt, which made them look jointed like a millipede but which I decided was tolerable. Saturday I ironed hems top and bottom into the satin, edged it with lamé, and sewed it into a tube. Then I handstitched the blue and white labels to the front and back of the tube while watching "Anne of a Thousand Days." Finally, I made suspenders of the red ribbon. And I was done.

(How anyone sits and does crafts without a sewing circle or a recorded book or a movie for the amusement of the other part of her brain I do not know. How anyone can watch television without handiwork I do not know. Such a waste. Ask me how my Granny gets such frequent long disjointed letters and I'll tell you: television.)

Or I was done until someone suggested green ribbon as a ripcord and I thought of glow-in-the-dark paint for the white letters. RDC pointed out that such paint would be yellow in daylight, so I saved that for after the Dot Org party but before Barbie's.

Meanwhile RDC was contemplating his own costume. For him we decided to go traditional: he was a vampire. He violated tradition though by not making his own costume all by himself. He helped, though. We bought black satin and a piece of poster board. They were out of red satin so I was spared lining the cape. He cut out a piece of poster board and I sewed black satin around it for the collar, then I cut two trapezoids out of the black satin and sewed them into a semblance of a cape. A button and a bit of satin cord as a loop (since we lacked a brooch) and he was done. From when I was a cow I had white and black face paints, for his pallor and hollow eyes, and a bright red lipstick for his bloody mouth. He wore black jeans and shoes and a tie-dyed button-down shirt, because he was a hippy vampire. He was a hippy vampire because he had rather risk his college-era tie-dye L.L. Bean Oxford than either of his present-day good white shirts and he owns no tuxedo shirt. I planned to add two bite marks to my Lifesaver neck. Territorialism, don't you know.

Sadly, I won no award at Dot Org for costume. I had no act, as the winners for Group (two dice, whom I dubbed the Dice Girls), runners-up for group (the Spice Girls--All That Spice, Organic Spice, Psychadelic Spice, and Pregnant Spice), and first and second invidual winners had. My costume was merely beautiful and one of my personal food groups. I lacked both an act and the bite marks. For next year, however, I have a brilliant idea for an interactive costume that I hope will work better.

And during all of this, HAO had no idea what to be. Everyone was supposed to be a Spice Girl--a popular theme this year--and Posh was not yet spoken for, but that didn't feel right to HAO. There wasn't time to make a ham costume, so she couldn't be Scout being a ham (and her hair is just about right too!), and then there wasn't time for paint to dry if I made a die from a box. That was a good costume idea because no one but me would recognize the grammatical error of her calling herself a Dice Girl (well, maybe someone would have; we're all English grad students).

Then I got a brilliant idea that I am not disclosing so no one steals it for next year. Then I got another brilliant idea that I gave to HAO. She could be Bill, as in Schoolhouse Rock's I'm Just A. Ha. We didn't start this project until noon on Hallowe'en itself mind you, but out we set. At Hobby Lobby again, we got a length of white felt and a package of construction paper, plus my ripcord's green ribbon and glowy paint. And we met some folks buying yellow felt to become Sam-I-Am. I wanted to be a Sneetch one year, but dismissed it as too hard. Would Sam-I-Am would be harder?

At home, I plotted the construction of a felt body scroll. I giggled: I wanted a scroll made of felt to wear on the body, not a scroll for a body to be the passive object of the verb "to feel." While I thought, I sewed up my remaining red satin as a ribbon to tie her scroll together. Then I was determined, and off we went. HAO lay on the floor and I rolled her over the felt to measure how wide it should be. This was very scientific. After cutting it, I pulled a peak over one shoulder, wrapped the length about her, and created another peak over her other shoulder. Then I tacked it with pins and let her out before handstitching--see how much I love her, or at least love my idea--the scroll in two places. While I did that, HAO made herself some badges, consulting my copy of Schoolhouse Rock by Tom Yohe for authenticity. She made herself a Bill badge, a Veto stamp, and a Law medal. I even had velcro so she could stick them onto herself. Then she wormed into the scroll, I yanked the ribbon tight around her tiny waist and pinned it in place, and finally I hacked out armholes. She was done.

She needed a Veto stamp because I, Empress of the Universe and sole occupant of the Executive Branch of my government (which lacks both Judicial and Legislative as well as all other branches, me being Empress and Dictator and all), planned to Veto her as soon as we got to the party. She could spend the rest of the evening gathering signatures to override my veto--100%, not a measly two thirds, of the partygoers. Then she could become a Law.

Armed with lots of big safety pins and a Sharpie permanent Marker tied to her shoulder with twine, off we three went. I think Barbie was disappointed we weren't Spice Girls, but there were plenty to go around. She was Herpes Spice and Sabrina was S&M Spice; and I called myself Cherry Spice; plus Sporty Spice, Ginger Spice, Old Spice (a sailor), Retro Spice (in '40s garb), Church Spice (from SNL's Church Chat, o'course), Dead Spice, Glinda (the Good Witch of the North) Spice, and Geisha Spice all were in attendance. As was the Magic 8-Ball, possibly the coolest costume present since he had all the answers. I had tried to get the Dot Org Spice Girls to come, but to no avail.

Church Spice did her superior dance; I introduced Red Riding Hood and the Wolf to an unknown partygoer who was the Wolf dressed up as the Grandmother; the Magic 8-Ball dispensed advice, and the Spice Girls danced. I had no act. Even a simple traditional vampire can swirl his cloak and threaten. Next year, I act.

Almost everyone at the party was a) about our age and b) American and so readily understood the point of HAO's costume. One man didn't but it turned out he was from France and so had not had the proper television exposure in his tender youth. He thought we were insane, or imposing, or something, but he did sign the Bill, even though she had no platform. Eventually HAO got what we decided was probably everyone's signature and so (with minimal fanfare), she became a Law.

Then it was midnight and we all turned into pumpkins. The End.