Scared Silly?

The shirt says it all.

By Patti Parish-Kaminski, Publisher

In the midst of my daily grind, a friend suggested that we should do something fun this weekend.  Well, I’ll all up for fun in virtually any form or incantation, so I instantly queried, “What are you thinking?”

“Why don’t we go to a haunted house and get scared silly?” was the enthusiastic reply.

My face was all the answer she needed.  It’s one of my spiritual gifts – my innate ability to express myself succinctly and completely with a mere look on my face.  It’s the primary reason I refuse to get Botox as I find this gift extremely efficient in shutting things down.  I can literally stop my people in their tracks with one look.  It’s a gift I cannot afford to freeze up.  It’s just too dang useful.

After questioning whether she had suffered a stroke or some other malady, I calmly explained that if some pre-pubescent male donning a rubber mask oozing fake blood came at me in the dark with a chain saw I would likely jack slap him so hard he would hear his late ancestors’ pleas from the grave for days to come.  And that would be my sober response.  Give me a drink or two, and my level of annoyance would take on an entirely new meaning.

At this stage of my life, I’m just not built for such foolishness.  Being scared isn’t something I aspire to be because I’ve lived fear.  I’ve looked it square in the eye, I’ve stared it down and I’ve beaten it. Surviving the 1980s, marriage, motherhood, entrepreneurship, in-laws, outlaws, COVID and the pandemic has provided me with enough scary scenarios to last me a lifetime.  It’s going take a lot more than a haunt or two to rattle my chain.  And frankly, the very last thing anyone wants to do right now is annoy me, because if patience is a virtue, I’m a woman with no virtues to speak of.

So, the Night Before All Saints Day, I will not be participating in any spooky shenanigans.  I will don my “Baddest Witch on the Block” shirt and hopefully give candy to any little goblins and ghouls who come to our door while imbibing in a glass of spirits.  I have a strict policy of allowing the little trick or treaters to grab as much candy as their tiny paws will hold, but if they are over 5’ tall sporting a 5 o’clock shadow and carrying a pillowcase, I give them one piece of candy and the look.  It usually does the trick.

Happy Halloween!  See y’all next week – on the porch!

Patti Parish-Kaminski

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