Werewolves and vampires and mummies are scary, okay?

Jack had his first encounter with Halloween spookiness today, and he did not enjoy it.  The werewolf was happy and funny, Dracula was perfectly friendly, and, sure, the mummy had a frighteningly bad 1920s-ish, New York-ish accent, but she was only trying to be nice.

Jack was having none of it.  Every time one of them came near, he clutched at whichever of us was holding him and hid his face.  I swear he was shaking one time.

He was fine with the other people around us.  He was making faces and smiling and making friend with strangers he could see over our shoulders, like usual, but these costumed people really freaked him out.

Seems strange that they would – he has no frame of reference for costumes, but he also doesn’t really have any reason to think they’d be scary.  Would he be as scared of someone dressed as Superman?  Maybe it was the heavy face makeup.

We’ll have an opportunity to find out next weekend when we take him to Rhode Island Comic Con.  And on Halloween, I guess.

Something happened!

I have been wondering if I will ever have something to write about other than the baby or the book I’m reading, and the answer is: YES!  But only if it’s something that happened to someone else.  Apparently.  Because the only things happening to me are baby-related.

What happened, you may ask?  And since it didn’t happen to me, why should you care?

My neighbor’s new barn burned to the ground!  And because it’s crazy-dramatic, that’s why!

My front-yard neighbors, Kev and Kerry, bought a house about 10 minutes north of here and moved in last weekend.  On Monday, Kev was burning cardboard boxes in the fire pit and his barn (his new house has had a barn) burned down.  He swears he put the fire out before he left (he was at the old house, getting it ready for tenants when the fire started).  The arson guy (Kev is not being charged with arson) says an ember must have gotten under the barn.

  1. That’s what he gets for not recycling (not my joke).
  2. The previous owner put the fire pit too close to the barn, but that doesn’t excuse Kev since he used it anyway.

No one was home.  The police (or whoever) called Kerry, and when she couldn’t reach Kev, she called Allison (who owns the bookstore across the street from us), and Allison ran over to the house shouting about a fire, so Kev went running for his fire extinguisher thinking the bookstore was on fire, and HOW DID I MISS ALL THIS?  It was Monday.  We were here Monday.  We’re here all day, every day.

I wonder if this is a new curse.  Remember the house that caught on fire across the street from us in Oregon?  Maybe fires happen to those near us.  At least it was their new house, not the old one.  Wait – twice is a coincidence.  Keep your eyes peeled for a third one – that’ll make a pattern.