Craft widowers

I went over to the local shopping center (around here they call them strip malls, but that just sounds wrong to me) to pick up some sandwiches for lunch. This is the day the center hosts the semiannual craft fair, so the sidewalks are crammed full of people shopping for bric-a-brac. Every table in the Subway shop was occupied by a lone male of about 50 years of age, probably wondering how much damage the spouse was doing to the credit cards.

We had a relatively quiet Halloween. The first trick-or-treater showed up at around 7 p.m. just as it was getting dark. We probably went to the door 12 times over the course of the next two hours. One time we opened up to see two boys and a girl who must have been seven or eight. The boy in the middle wasn’t in costume, we thought. “Ask him what he is,” the girl prompted. I bit. “I’m your worst nightmare,” he said. “A kid on too much sugar!” The girl nodded her agreement and looked into her treat bag. “I have more candy than a little girl can handle.”

I expected to see at least one Sarah Palin, but none showed up at our door.